


cut the head off the snake

by itsthechocopuff



Series: shit happens [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: (mild), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Because I can, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Eye Trauma, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mokuton user!Sakura, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ROOT!Sakura, Sakura is thrown back in time and decides to fix shit the ninja way, Sakura/Badassery 2kforever, Time Travel Fix-It, because #yolo, because sharingan fuckery innit, cause i'm a sucker, morals? i don't know her, okay serious stuff now, tags and character list will be updated as story develops, tiny murder baby!Sakura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthechocopuff/pseuds/itsthechocopuff
Summary: when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?





	1. beginning

**Author's Note:**

> i blame all the incredible authors whose works i read for getting suckered into timetravel!Sakura (sprx77, Katlou303, writer168, jaylene, aoutrance and blackkat, I'm looking at you)
> 
> Mokuton!Sakura was born after a lot of tumbling, mainly inspired by @postscratch, @tiredgaykakashi and @professorsparklepants, as well as @sandorclegane's art (v cool btw, check it out) and, cause, honestly? fuck canon with a cactus. SasuNaru can be reincarnations of a goddesses' sons but Sakura can't have Wood Release cause she'd be ~overpowered~? oh boo-fuckin-hoo. #blocked
> 
> also, experimenting with present-tense narration for the first time ever, so apologies for any tense-slipups. they will happen. #oopsinadvance

Sakura jerks awake with a gasp.

She’s drenched in cold sweat and shivering, the memory of a haze of suffocating orange chakra and a searing pain in her lower back and left breast making her swallow back bile.

Then, she freezes.

Her chakra is gone.

Well, not _gone,_ the not-yet-panicking part of her mind corrects – while the rest is firmly committed to hyperventilating – but tiny. Dormant. Untouched.

She opens her eyes and raises her arm and –

_Small._

No callouses, no bloodied, ripped off nails, no torn-up cuticles or silvery scars. Just a small hand, with pale, unblemished skin, and short, untrained, clumsy fingers.

Sakura’s breath catches in her throat. The pastel yellow walls of her bedroom begin to spin.

She’d been eighteen, fresh out of the Fourth Shinobi War. She’d been on the frontlines for over a year, had surpassed Tsunade, had mastered both of the blonde’s legendary jutsus, had stood with Naruto and Sasuke as their _equal_ while they faced a _goddess_.

And yes, they’d won the war, but they’d lost _so many_. Yet, after Kaguya had been dealt with, everyone just… went back to ‘normal’. Hardly any time was spent grieving, mourning those they’d lost. But Sakura couldn’t just _let go._ She’d lost too many faces she’d known and held dear, lost Ino, Sai, Genma, Shikaku, Kiba, Yamato, Neji, Inoichi, Tenten, Shizune – and nobody seemed to _care_. Kakashi, grief-leaden and traumatised beyond belief had been tasked with Hokageship, a job Sakura knew he’d fulfil to the best of his ability, but one that nobody who’d really loved him should’ve asked of him. Tsunade had retired, dropped her age-concealing illusion and focused on rebuilding the hospital and rehoming civilians, and while Sakura didn’t begrudge either of them their decisions, it meant nobody saw her composure slowly shattering. So when Naruto and Sasuke decided to fight, because the fact that they’d just fought in a war didn’t seem to matter to their egos, Sakura had been tired. So she’d followed. And when they’d pulled out their respective end-all moves – ones she’d known would total the landscape around them and, if they were lucky, severely injure both of them – she saw an out. She saw an end to the play-pretend they’d all been living in.

_(So she stepped between them.)_

She shakes off the memory, but clings to the facts: _eighteen, a young woman, a shinobi, a medic, a student, a legend, and now–!_

A _child._

She rolls out of bed, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, falls on the floor and staggers to the window, and tries to wrench it open. It moves slowly, and it _hurts_ as her palms dig into the sharp wooden frame, splinters coming off and lodging themselves into her delicate skin, but eventually – when she’s panting from exertion and her arms are shaking – it _gives._

In her panic, her practiced leap out of the window turns into a stumble, and she trips over the frame, her legs too short to reach over the window sill and she falls through and has two terrifying seconds where she’s freefalling, but gravity does its work and the ground comes up all too soon. Sakura hits the grass in a graceless tangle of limbs, feels the impact of jar her fragile bones and wonders how barely five metres can feel like tumbling from the Valley of the End.

She feels tears spring to her eyes when she pulls herself up and her left arm is burning, the normally straight forearm forming an obtuse angle.

 _Broken,_ the sober part of her mind catalogues, even as the rest of her is still busy having a panic attack, _compound fracture._

She stumbles through her garden and crawls out through the gap in the hedge, and then she’s running, keeping to the shadows and gasping in desperate breaths through her mouth even as her throat feels clogged with the promise of tears and black spots are dancing across her vision.

Eventually, she reaches the communal park, deserted and decidedly haunted-looking so late in the night, and makes a bee-line for the treehouse, dazedly climbing up the ladder until she’s surrounded by four wooden walls and comforted by the fake feeling of security the cover provides.

Then, she breaks down.

She cries, ugly and loud and desperate because she’s somehow _back in time._ She’s small, probably pre-Academy judging by the fact that her chakra hadn’t even responded when she called for it, much less rose up automatically to cushion her fall when she jumped out of the window.

She cries and cries and cries, and eventually, she runs out of tears.

All she feels is numb and tired, and the ache of her broken arm is there, but the mess in her head manages to reduce it to background noise.

She’s maybe… four? Five? Probably pre-Academy, and _definitely_ pre-Ino, since her red ribbon was nowhere in sight. She looks at her body and feels a pinprick of fear crest at the bottom of her skull and slide down her spine in a shiver; she’s so _small. (vulnerable, useless, defenceless, civilian-!)_

Eventually her panic abates, and the throb of her arm becomes louder. Sakura takes a deep breath and rises to her feet, shivering once again, this time from the cold. She absently notices that she’s barefoot, and her sheep-patterned pyjamas are most definitely not adequate protection from Konoha’s late autumn nights.

She looks down at her arm and sighs. _Hospital it is,_ she decides grimly. She makes her way to the ladder, then pauses and eyes the slide. _How long has it been…?_ She wonders absently, and when her brain catches up, she’s already moving, sitting down and pushing off. The whoosh of air as she slides down eases the pain in her heart and she feels the beginnings of a smile pull at her mouth, and when she stands up, she feels slightly lighter.

The trek to the hospital is uneventful; Sakura keeps to the shadows and skirts past the mouths of dark alleys and drunk singing, and eventually, she finds herself in the reception of the A&E department, and the quiet reminds her of the few graveyard shifts she’d pulled back –

_Back then._

She swallows.

There’s only two other people in the waiting room, a dozing shinobi attached to an IV drip, and an elderly civilian holding an icepack to his head. Sakura walks up to the receptionist’s desk and has to stand a bit away so she can actually see and be seen once the woman looks up.

“Excuse me, miss?” she says and immediately hates how high and quiet her voice is, but it serves its purpose; the woman startles and looks up, then immediately down. Her eyes widen.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims, and Sakura winces at the volume. “I’m so sorry sweet-pea, were you waiting long? Where’s your mama? What happened?” she bombards Sakura with questions, and inwardly, Sakura’s medic-self berates the woman for her unprofessionalism.

“N-no, ma’am.” She denies. “I fell out of bed and hurt my arm.” The white lie slips out with nary a thought, and she shows off her broken arm for good measure and then adds, “And I didn’t want to wake my mom. I came here myself.”

She sees the receptionist’s eyes widen at that, and she stands up and hops over the desk, crouching beside Sakura’s small form. “Oh, sugar, let me take you to the X-Ray department, okay? The doctors are going to quickly scan your arm and set it, and then you’ll have to wear a cast for a few weeks while your arm heals, but we could make it colourful! How about pink to match that pretty hair of yours, hm?” the nurse rambles, and Sakura knows she should be soothed by the explanation because she’s, for all intents and purposes, a _child,_ but all it does is raise her hackles because she always hated being talked down to, damn it. She could recite the procedure for dealing with broken bones in her _sleep!_

But she bites back the anger and the bitterness and lets the receptionist lead her away, smiles and waves goodbye when she leaves and suffers through the x-rays and the wait for the results. The doctors seem alarmed when she says she’s alone, but they’re easily bought by her teary explanation of not wanting to wake her mom.

 _Brave girl,_ they tell her, _such a considerate daughter,_ and it stings and burns, rancid in her throat but all she does is smile and duck her head. And when she’s led away to have her arm set and put in a cast, she doesn’t register that she’ll be put under anaesthetic until they’re wheeling over the tray with the mask.

She starts to struggle, because the last thing she wants is to be out and in her head for an undisclosed amount of time, but the doctors soothe her and gently try to pin her flailing limbs, and someone expertly secures the elastic around her head and pulls the mask over her mouth and nose.

“Count to ten.” They tell her.

_I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want-!_

She passes out.

* * *

When she wakes, her arm is immobile and in a garishly pink cast, and she’s lying in a bed far softer than she remembers from _her_ hospital. The clock on the wall reads _6am_ and Sakura desperately tries to remember what time her parents left for work. It would be difficult to explain how she ended up in the hospital if the front door was still locked, and she didn’t exactly want her first interaction with her parents – _alivealivealive! –_ to be full of lies.

She slips out of bed and pads down the corridor of the paediatric ward, and then down to main reception. It’s busier now, more nurses bustling around and more people in the waiting room, but the receptionist is still the same.

“Good morning.” She greets quietly and waves when the woman glances at her. “Thank you for your help, nurse-san. Can I go home now? I don’t want my parents to worry.”

“Sakura-chan!” the woman greets, and Sakura absently wonders how long she spent looking for her medical records with only her appearance and approximate age to go on. “Are you sure? We could send someone to notify your parents of where you are!”

“No, thank you.” Sakura demurs, toeing the line between insistent and rude and fighting with her rising irritation. “I feel better and I’d like to see my parents before they go to work.”

The receptionist caves at last, even though Sakura sees she’s still reluctant, and at last she’s free to go, still in her pyjamas and now bearing a ridiculous cast in a shade of pink so obnoxious it makes her hair look tame in comparison.

She makes her way home, crawling in through the same gap in the hedge she left by, and stands under her window, staring at the wall with a frown.

The front door is locked, and while breaking in through the window was child’s play to adult-Sakura, Sakura as she is now lacks both the tools and the dexterity to make it work.

She frowns at her wall, aware what she needs to do but somewhat hesitant, then she sighs and concentrates.

Her chakra is there, sure as anything, and while the pool is _depressingly_ shallow, her control seems to have translated and as she puts her foot against the wall, she knows she’s got the exact amount of chakra she needs in it. It’s jarring, seeing her foot against the wall, because it’s _so small,_ and in her original timeline, she didn’t even attempt the exercise until she was _twelve_ , in Wave and living each day in fear of Zabuza, her first bogeyman. Still, she makes her way up the wall, slowly, because for all that she’s confident in her control, arrogance and rushing ahead had always been her teammates’ trademarks, not hers.

She crawls in through the still open window, her small stature for once helping her instead of inhibiting as she manoeuvres and squeezes through despite her broken arm. She grabs a random book from her shelf and makes her way downstairs, creeping down the stairs and curling up on the sofa, content to wait till her parents get up to start the day and spin her little sob story then.

She opens her book and pretends to read, while inwardly, she plans.

The ache of losing half of her precious people is still too fresh in her mind. She doesn’t think she can bear seeing everyone again, not as they were in the Academy, innocent and boisterous and with faces lined with baby-fat.

But she needs to make a start on her shinobi career. Perhaps not officially, because ‘child genius’ isn’t a title she particularly wants, but enough to be prepared for what will come after. Better prepared, at least, than she was originally. Prepared for Orochimaru and Pein and Danzo and-

She freezes, mental cogs grounding to a halt at the thought.

Danzo.

Who did she know who was after talented, nameless children, who would help her get strong – even if it was only for his gain – and who was instrumental to the shitstorm that went on in her teens? And if she manages to get close, to find evidence, she could bring damning evidence to the Sandaime, evidence that could, hopefully, get rid of Danzo all that much sooner.

_And save Sai._

Her breath catches in her throat once more, and she absently notes that she’s clutching her book in a white-knuckled grip. She knows what she must do. And she knows she cannot fail, cannot falter.

A lance of pain shoots through her when she thinks of what she’s about to do to her parents, but she knows her success is infinitely more important than the happiness of two civilians.

 _It is time,_ she thinks grimly, mercilessly quashing any guilt that tries to rise up, _to get noticed by ROOT._


	2. training montage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm honestly blown away by the positive response to the first chapter < 3 thank y'all so much!
> 
> this one is honestly a filler, and, like the title suggests, a training montage *cue dramatic music*
> 
> as for the engineering of Mokuton... i'm citing creative liberty and 'fuck-canon-i-do-what-i-want'. and Narutopedia, for providing me with the line "It is made up of techniques that mix earth-based chakra in one hand and water-based chakra in the other to create wood as well as various plants, from simple seeds to even flowering trees." when talking about Wood Release. needless to say, i took that line and kinda, uh, ran with it. far. 
> 
> to anyone expecting medic!Sakura to make a return... oops. #sorrynotsorry

Sakura evaluates her plan. 

ROOT is risky, that she knows. Who can tell how she'll come out,  _if_ she actually succeeds and things go according to plan. She could be different. Fractured. Bitter. 

But, at the same time, she knows that ROOT is, ironically, one of the only places she'll be safe if she slips up. They'd probably just call it a glitch in the conditioning, or a natural response to being forced to suppress emotions instead of trying to dig deeper, like Shikamaru or his father would, or slipping a mind-walk past her like Ino or Inoichi could. And she knows she can't face her old teammates. Not yet. Not when the memory of dying by their hands is still too fresh in her mind. And pretending to be a complete civilian child, and going through the Academy  _again..._ Sakura can think of few things that would be worse for her mental state. 

And, if she succeeds, she could bring about the downfall of not just ROOT, but Danzo himself. Eliminate one of the key players before anyone realises he's even playing. 

Sakura smiles, wry and resigned.

_ROOT it is._

She spends a week at home, getting in touch with her chakra.

Her parents had fawned over her when they saw the cast on her arm, had gently berated her for not waking either of them up when she ‘fell out of bed’, and then largely left her to her own devices while they went to work.

All in all, it was about what Sakura had expected.

Now, as she sits cross-legged on the rug in her room, shoulders loose and eyes closed, she feels the gentle hum of her chakra as she stretches out her coils like plasticine and smiles. Meditation had been something Shizune had suggested, once upon a time, as a non-intensive way of increasing her chakra supply.

Bearing in mind she’s now four and has plans of not only infiltrating, but _surviving_ ROOT, she cannot afford to let her tiny puddle of chakra _stay_ a puddle.

At two in the afternoon, like clockwork, when she knows her elderly next-door neighbour is settling in for her afternoon nap, Sakura, also like clockwork, clambers out of her window and allows herself to stick her feet on the wall and relishes the familiar feeling of being parallel to the ground. She jogs around, from her window, to the balcony door, then right to the top of the house and back again, until she feels the tell-tale wooziness that comes from scraping at the bottom of her reserves. Every day, she manages to last a few dozen seconds longer, and that, more than anything, makes her smile.

It’s been a while since she’d been able to see herself progress so fast. She supposes starting from nothing while actually having an idea of how she should proceed this time has its advantages.

She crawls back into her room and stretches, then treks downstairs to fix herself up a reasonably hefty lunch. Sakura thanks the heavens for being able to start her chakra training as a child this time – she can fully exhaust her reserves every day, and not feel a thing in the morning. The headaches, muscle aches and general grogginess of her teenage years are a thing of the past.

Sakura keeps to that routine for two weeks, until she can run around the outside wall of her house for ten minutes and not feel woozy, and her reserves are, by her approximation, around a third of the reserves of her genin self.

Satisfied, the next day Sakura leaves the house with a swimming costume underneath her dress and a towel, a sandwich, and a plastic bag in her rucksack. She finds a stream, as removed and isolated from both, shinobi and civilians, as she can and drops her pack. Her cast-covered arm is wrapped carefully in the plastic bag, and her dress gets thrown haphazardly next to her bag. Sakura smiles, steels herself, steps on the water –  

– and falls right through.

She sputters, surfaces, and awkwardly clambers back onto the bank.

 _Okay, that was ambitious._ She thinks wryly, and blows wet hair out of her face. She spends the next ten minutes on the very edge of the bank, holding onto a protruding root for stability as she tries to make her feet stand on the water without falling through. _Different centre of gravity so different distribution of chakra is necessary. This isn’t about control, this is physics._

Eventually, she gets the distribution right, and feels confident enough to let go of the root and stand properly. She wobbles, but manages to stay upright. It’s when she tries to take a step that it goes wrong, and she suddenly forgets the correct distribution and defaults back to what had been automatic for so long, and not all that long ago. Naturally, she falls.

 _Not eighteen anymore!_ She snarls inwardly. _That time is gone! Get your act together, damn it!_

She manages to get it right eventually and feels a curl of satisfaction in her gut. It had taken far too long for her tastes, but still less than it had the first time around.

She comes back to the stream every day for two weeks, until her reserves grow to half that of genin-Sakura, and the new chakra distribution becomes her automatic response.

In the last two weeks of being plaster-bound, Sakura works on her conditioning.

She starts with stretches and a short run and builds on them. She’s not going to try to bulk up _as a four year old,_ but speed, stamina and flexibility are harmless as far as exercises go, and are something every child has, to some extent.

She’s just going to make sure she has more than most.

Sakura makes sure to always be back before her parents, so she can shower and start on dinner and plan the tales she’s going to spin about the book she’s ‘read’ or the children she’d met at the park, or the cute dog she’d gotten to pet. (the last one is sometimes true)

The guilt of lying to her parents day in, day out hardly registers.

She’s sure the relief on her face is comical when her cast finally gets removed, if Mebuki’s laughter is anything to go by.

“Was it really that bad?” her mother teases as they leave the hospital, hand in hand because Sakura is suddenly _small_ and _needs parental guidance._

“The worst!” she agrees, quashing the automatic wince at the squeakiness of her voice, and pouts. “It itched and I couldn’t shower prop’ly and it made reading difficult!” and when Mebuki laughs, the vice around Sakura’s heart eases, if only a little.

She plays up the childishness for her mother, aware that the woman is going to be robbed of her only child soon, if things go to plan. The least she can do for Haruno Mebuki is pretend to be her innocent, civilian daughter for another few months.

She has experience with play-pretend, after all.

Once she’s free of the cast, the possibilities for what she can work on next seem limitless. She has half an average genin’s chakra pool and the control of a jounin to work with – together, they bring her overall proficiency with her chakra and what she can do with it to about that of a low chunin.

Sakura starts herself off on the Academy Three, and smiles at the nostalgia that rises with the memory of her _first_ time learning them.

Her first henge as a four year old is into her eighteen year old self, and she studies her expression in her bathroom mirror, door locked _just in case_. The exhaustion, war-weariness and grief are writ deep into the lines on her face, and even her resting expression looks a step away from giving in to despair. Those lines are absent on her current body, and though her eyes could betray her, Sakura has experience keeping certain emotions and expressions at bay.

 _Thinking of it now, Inner seems conspicuously absent._ She muses, and drops the transformation, suddenly staring at the rim of the sink instead of the mirror. _Man, the height difference is a worse trip than that time Kotetsu brought brownies into the HQ._

Sakura devotes two weeks to each of the Three: she runs through katas and stretches under henge, cycling through faces she knows won’t be known around the Village yet, races with her bunshin, and does Kawarimi until she can orient herself in the new position within less than a second. She whittles down the hand-seals she needs for each of them, from four or three to one or two; by the end of the six weeks, her bunshin only need the Tiger seal, while she does henge with Ram. She keeps two of the original four of Kawarimi, Tiger and Snake, the first and the last, because it is the closest to Space-Time manipulation out of the Three, and the most likely to go wrong if she takes a shortcut.

 _(she is not_ that _arrogant. yet.)_

Originally, she never really gave much thought to the Academy Three, beyond learning them to graduate and confusing Ino with bunshin in the Preliminaries.

Her mistake.

She remembers Kakashi thoroughly whooping Sasuke’s post-Orochimaru, post-Itachi, post-Rinnegan, post-literal-reincarnation-of-a-spirit-and-the-mother-of-all-power-ups ass using only the Academy Three and a kunai.

It is one of her fonder memories.

Therefore, she can hardly bring herself to regret spending six weeks on something she _knows_ she could do in her sleep. Kakashi himself was testament to how far the basics could take you if you used them well.

Three months after landing in her four year old body, Sakura has the reserves of her old genin self, can walk on water, run through the stretches and katas Tsunade had taught her, and has an arguably greater mastery of the Academy Three than she had as an adult.

It’s good, the progress she’s made. Immensely satisfying too, when she remembers that she’s at the same level after three months of serious training that she was after six years in the Academy.

But it’s still not enough.

It’s not enough to catch Danzo’s attention. Not enough to be noticed by ROOT without doing anything drastic to out herself as a ‘genius’. She’s a skilled four year old, a civilian prodigy, but realistically little different from some Clan kids. Sasuke’s brother could probably kick her around, the extra half-decade of experience and living through a war on her side be damned.

She needs something special. Something nobody else could do. Something rare or extinct or so venerated nobody would dare–

Sakura freezes.

 _‘Everybody always raves about my grandfather’s Wood Release, how it’s such a unique kekkei genkai, an extinct nature transformation, all that jazz.’_ She remembers Tsunade saying, after a few too many drinks even by her standards. _‘But it’s not. It wasn’t. A kekkei genkai, that is. At least not properly. It was just insane control, but one he was born with.’_ She remembers echoing ‘control?’ and the wry smile Tsunade had offered her. _‘Yeah. He mixed Water chakra in one hand and Earth in the other, and used his chakra as the life-force. Everybody who’s attempted to recreate it needed his DNA because nobody, not Orochimaru, not Obito, and certainly not Madara could even dream of that level of chakra control.’_ The _look_ Tsunade had levelled her with was far too assessing and calculating for her inebriated state. _‘You could do it, I think. They’re your elements and god knows your control is better than mine. Bring back honour to my grandfather’s technique.’_

This is it.

Sakura lets out a breathy laugh, suddenly exhilarated. She has the vote of confidence of the _granddaughter of the God of Shinobi himself._

She cannot fail.

* * *

Over the next few months, Sakura falls into a routine.

She wakes up early, stretches and goes downstairs to eat breakfast with her parents as they prepare for work. She waves them off and gets dressed, grabs a meal she’d prepared earlier in the week from the fridge and goes to train. She works solely on elemental ninjutsu.

She builds up an arsenal she never had as _Haruno Sakura, Godaime’s apprentice and Head of Konoha Hospital,_ works and works and _works_ because for the first time, she can devote her entire _days_ to training.

Once a week, Sakura takes the tin of ‘spending money’ her parents set out for her and goes shopping for high-calorie, high-protein foods. She buys pasta and grains and organ meats and eggs and avocado and sea vegetables and nuts and beans and everything the nutritionist in her knows her body needs with how much stress and activity she’s putting it through, and spends an entire day cooking. She boxes the pre-cooked meals in tupperware and hides her stash at the bottom shelf of the fridge, under a low level notice-me-not genjutsu that her civilian parents have little chance of ever dispelling.

When her fifth birthday rolls around, six months since she landed in the past, she’s built her way up to B-Ranks, with four techniques for each element. She takes no small amount of pride in the fact that she has more techniques under her belt than genin-Sasuke had, and that alone is enough to allow her to sit through her parents’ birthday celebrations and play the happy-go-lucky five year old she is supposed to be with minimal exasperation.  

To her surprise, her parents get her clothes. Boyish clothes. _Training_ clothes.

“You’re growing like a weed, Sakura-chan.” Her dad laughs, and Sakura is inwardly surprised he noticed. “Plus, we thought the fact that your collection of dresses is gathering dust might be a hint you want a change of style?”

She blinks, thrown for a second, and then it clicks.

Her parents see her in her pyjamas in the morning, and after her shower in the evening. By then, she’s dressed in comfortable clothes, too tired to bother with cute dresses or accessories. She walks around the house almost exclusively in shorts and leggings and neutral-coloured, plain tops, because that’s what she _used to do_ , whenever she had any off days from the hospital.

Only she’s five, not fifteen, a civilian instead of a harried med-nin and shinobi, and as far as her parents are aware, she goes to the park every day and plays with other children and has _no reason_ to not have the energy to care about _coordinating colours._

(This time, the wave of guilt is harder to ignore.)

Sakura swallows. Smiles.

“Thank you, okaa-san, otou-san.” She manages, throat oddly tight. “You were right. I love them.”

When her parents flash her twin, brilliant smiles, she thanks the heavens they think their daughter’s change in appearance is due to her having developed a _tomboy side,_ and not the fact that she’s training to be a pint-sized assassin.

It’s a good cover though, the one her parents accidentally provide her with. She dresses in muted colours and trousers even on weekends now, and she knows the ease and relief she feels must somehow radiate off of her because her parents smile at her whenever they catch eyes and she smiles back and it’s _easier,_ now. One less layer to the play-pretend. And once she asks to cut her hair, something she never quite had the guts to try _before_ , her mother only titters a little before she takes her to the salon, and Sakura sits in the far-too-big chair and watches the hairdresser work until only inch-long tufts of pink remain.

The smile she gives her mother as they leave feels like her truest one yet.

Two weeks later, Sakura has devoured every book, scroll or notebook the library has on offer about Wood Release, as well as every history book that so much as _mentions_ Senju Hashirama. She visits the library henged as Shizune, confident in the fact that her old senpai is yet-unknown to Konohagakure ninja, and takes out books under a false name. For a Village of killers trained to look _underneath the underneath_ , she somehow slips through, not even registering on the radar.

Seven months in, she sits in the forest with one hand pressed to the ground and one dipped in a puddle she’d made, and tries to concentrate on splitting her chakra. Water-natured chakra in the puddle-hand, Earth-natured in the other.

It takes weeks.

To deal with her frustration, she henges into Shizune again and buys weapons; kunai, shuriken, senbon and throws in a tanto for good measure, and vents by carving crude targets into the trees.

Her aim starts off horrendous.

The muscle-memory she relied on in her old timeline is gone. Her reach is not the same. Her height pisses her off.

Within the first two weeks, her aim improves. Drastically.

_(yes, she’s fucking frustrated)_

Nine months in, she can split her chakra and keep it separated for five minutes.

Sakura takes a week’s break to prepare herself to actually bring them _back together._

At the end of her self-appointed vacation, she’s back in the forest, chakra separated into Water and Earth, and a single rose bud lies on the ground in front of her, mocking her.

Slowly, carefully, she brings her hands together and laces her fingers into the Snake seal, and concentrates on the bud in front of her. She lets the chakra come together, makes sure not to lose track of either thread, and weaves it into a net of _intent_ formed of two synched, yet distinct energies. She holds her breath, lets her chakra go, and wills the bud to bloom.

It does.

* * *

Sakura wishes she could say that after that little triumph, it gets easier.

It doesn’t.

It takes _weeks_ to make even the barest half-step towards progress. A month later, she can make a flower bloom at her feet without first having the bulb, or even the seed.

Two months later and eleven months after landing in this world, the first sapling sprouts beside her, and she feeds it chakra and watches as it grows into a young cherry blossom tree, only a little taller than her.

But progress is still slow.

She’s grasping at straws, playing entirely by ear, and there are no guidelines, no textbooks, no tutors she can use. She’s _remaking a kekkei genkai_ by breaking it into its most base elements and using her _chakra control_ to piece it back together.

A year and a half after waking up as a four year old, around her sixth birthday, she can call up a wooden wall, a protective dome, and send the roots at imaginary attackers. Her long-distance control, however, leaves a lot to be desired.

But it’s of little consequence, because in early June, a month before the first Academy application forms are sent out, Sakura feels a familiar corrosive, corrupt chakra at the edges of the clearing she uses as her training ground.

_Danzo._

There’d been flickers of suppressed signatures around her for the last few days, ones she was confident belonged to ROOT agents for the simple lack of any undercurrent of emotion in the chakra. Now, the big bad wolf himself had come to see.

Sakura spends the next few evenings spoiling her parents. She cooks extravagant meals for when they come back from work, smiles frequently and makes sure to wear the necklace they gave her for her sixth birthday. If they notice the change, they don’t say anything and Sakura is grateful. She persuades them into movie night one evening, and holds the laughter and hugs that are passed around close to her heart.

She memorises her parents’ faces and scents and how it feels to have their arms wrapped around her.

The next time she goes to train, she’s got a small sealing scroll of her most important possessions in her hip pouch.

One day goes by peacefully. So does the second.

On the third, Sakura greets the flicker of chakra in her periphery and the darkness that descends on her when someone strikes the back of her neck with a bittersweet smile.


	3. first steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me begin by saying how blown away i am by the response to this little story of mine!  
> thank you very much to everyone who commented - i appreciate each and everyone of you who take the time to write a lil somethin' ;)
> 
> tw for this chapter:  
> physical abuse  
> fairly graphic descriptions of injury  
> very, very, v e r y mild mention of pedophilia  
> 

When Sakura opens her eyes, it takes her a second to realise what exactly she’s looking at.

Metal. Sturdy metal planks, the scaffolding of a bunk bed. The wall to her left is grey cement, and her fingers stroke over scratchy, bleached sheets. Slowly, cautiously, she sits up.

The room around her is bare. Another bunk bed stands against the opposite wall. There are also two chests of drawers by the far wall. No window. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, and the weak, yellow light casts eerie shadows on the corners of the room.

And then she has no more time to look around as a uniformed, yet unmasked teen appears before her.

“Come.” He orders simply, then turns on his heel and heads towards the reinforced steel door.

Sakura scrambles up, notes that her pack is still secure around her waist, and hastens to follow her escort. He leads her through bare, poorly-lit, winding corridors that seem to go on forever, until finally, they reach a set of double-doors. The teen knocks twice then pushes them open, revealing what can only be described as a _throne room_.

And on the opposite end –

Sakura’s breath catches in her throat.

_Danzo._

Her escort starts forward, across what seems to be a bridge, and Sakura fights the temptation to look over the railing and check how big the drop is. There are weird, metal pipes that stick out from the walls and climb up, up, higher than Sakura can see, and with a jolt, she realises that they’re underground. _Deep_ underground, from the looks of it. _It would explain the lack of windows._

When they’re within thirty feet of the Elder, Sakura suddenly feels a hand push between her shoulder blades. She’s not expecting the movement so it catches her off-balance, and the force behind the hit brings her to her knees. Sakura hits the floor with a thud and a hiss, barely catches herself on her hands to keep her nose from smacking into the cement floor.

“The newest recruit, as you requested, Danzo-sama.” Her escort announces, falling into a deep bow.

“At ease, Nezumi.” Danzo orders, and Sakura hears him move even as her eyes are still focused on her hands. “Look up, child.” he says sharply, and Sakura carefully raises her gaze.

Danzo has stood up and stepped out from behind the desk, and now his single, piercing eye is trained on her.

 “Do you know why you’re here?” he asks, and Sakura debates for a split-second whether to lie or come clean _right now._

(it’s possible she hasn’t _quite_ thought this through.)

_Lie._

She shakes her head. “No, sir.” She denies, feels the thrum of approval in the Elder’s chakra at the title.

“My people saw you play around with something very special. Do you know what it was?”

Sakura’s hesitation is real this time, but she still repeats, “No, sir.”

Danzo’s gaze sharpens.

“Do you not know, then, that Wood Release hasn’t been seen occurring naturally since the Shodaime?”

Sakura doesn’t miss how he highlights ‘naturally’, then she has a split second to decide whether to repeat herself again, or up the stakes. She chooses the latter.

“’Wood Release’, sir?”

Danzo lets out a sound that she almost wants to call frustrated. He turns to Nezumi. “Civilian?”

“Yes, sir.” The teen confirms, having straightened from his bow. “No indication of shinobi heritage.”

A jolt of fear runs through Sakura at the notion that ROOT had already managed to get information on her family, but it’s forcefully shoved to the back of her mind when Danzo nods sharply and turns his attention back to her.

“You have a unique gift that, by all accounts, you shouldn’t have.” He starts, and Sakura stills. “When did you realise you could manipulate nature?”

_Think think **THINK**!_

“I…”

Sakura thinks back to her old life, to Naruto losing control of the Kyuubi when overcome with emotion, to Sasuke’s chidori sparkling off of him in uncontrollable bursts in his grief, to Kakashi’s unexpected viciousness when he learnt of every comrade they lost in the war, to Yamato creating beautiful gardens of death when he found out that Sai had been killed.

 _Emotion_.

A shinobi’s greatest strength and greatest downfall.

 _Lie,_ she reminds herself.

“I got into an argument with my parents.” She manages at last, hangs her head in pretend-remorse. “I… they yelled at me, I was upset and I-I ran away from home. I ended up in the f-forest, and when I fell and hit the grass, flowers bloomed around me.” She’s breathless when she finishes, the run-on sentences and adrenaline masking the tremor in her voice.

She’s never been a good liar, but here she is, lying to one of the best deceivers Konoha has ever seen.

Danzo scrutinises her for a moment, and the silence is suffocating.

“I can teach you to control it.” He says finally, and Sakura jerks in surprise. There’s an odd glint in the Elder’s eye when she looks up, a mix of hunger and satisfaction. “I can teach you to wield it. Do you want that?”

For a second, Sakura is stunned, speechless.

She’s still _alive._ He _believed_ her.

Then, she remembers that she’s six. A civilian. A _child,_ and a girl at that.

Danzo may be crazy and paranoid, but apparently, even he doesn’t expect deception from everyone.

“Yes!” she almost sobs, her relief very much real, then composes herself. “Yes, sir. I do.”

Something awful happens to Danzo’s face then – all his scars twist and his lip twitches and the skin around his eye crinkles and pulls and- _oh_.

Danzo is _smiling._

Then Nezumi strikes the back of her neck and her eyes fall shut to the memory of that haunting expression.

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Sakura’s tested almost relentlessly; they take her blood, saliva, skin and hair samples, but they also drill her in the ninja arts: she’s put through tests for nin, tai, genjutsu, weapons throwing, flexibility, speed, stamina, strategy – and it’s terrifying but also exhilarating.

Terrifying, because she has to carefully plan each and every action because she has a cover to maintain, but exhilarating, because she knows she could ace every single one of those tests if she was actually taking them seriously.

She intentionally flunks ninjutsu, because she’s meant to be a civilian with a dormant kekkei genkai not a trained shinobi, passes genjutsu detection and creation once she asks to be shown a technique – they choose to teach her the Hell-Viewing technique, and it’s such a brutal throwback to her first Chunin Exams that she flubs her first attempt and only manages to cast the illusion on the second, but apparently, that’s still good for the shinobi assessing her because he passes her without question.

She makes herself just barely pass taijutsu, alternating between Naruto’s old brawl-style taijutsu and Tsunade-honed dodging, but she lets herself _ace_ weapons throwing.

She keeps her flexibility, speed and stamina only marginally higher than that of a first year Academy student, which in the eyes of her assessor translates to Piss-Poor But Not Unexpected and actually puts in an effort with the strategy, earning the first expression other than detachment or disdain from her evaluator – he raises an eyebrow when she successfully outmanoeuvres two agents she suspects to be orphaned Nara and Yamanaka.

She gets a pass overall, three jutsu scrolls with elementary ninjutsu techniques, only some of which she doesn’t already know, and a uniform.

She also gets a mask; _Tori._

Her bunkmate, she learns, is _Neko_. Her other roomates are _Uma_ and _Ushi_.

They honestly couldn’t have made it clearer that they were going to make bunkmates fight each other to the death if they’d _tried_.  

Overall, Sakura’s first week in ROOT is fairly uneventful.

Then, she’s assigned a mission.

On paper, it’s simple: corner one of the civilian nobles with a rumoured taste for minors as he’s leaving the bar and kill him, but make it look like a civilian. She’s mildly thrown by the last instruction, because that throws out nin or taijutsu and even most of her weapons, and she hasn’t had to get up-close and intimate with a target since she grasped Tsunade’s unique taijutsu style.

But she sets out for the mission with Nezumi and Buta – tries to ignore the niggling suspicion that Nezumi is there exclusively as her handler and will report every misstep she makes straight back to Danzo – and gets on with it.

It’s almost shamefully easy to corner the target and lead him to the empty, dark alleyway at the back of the bar, and it’s easier still to knock the man’s feet out from under him and wrap her tiny hands around his throat, pressing in with her thumbs until the thyroid cartilage gives way under her grip and he suffocates.

Sakura rises and tries to ignore the bile that rises in her throat when she thinks that she’s just killed a man in cold blood, ten years before she even came at anyone with the intent to kill in the original timeline.

When she turns to Nezumi and Buta, she gets an approving nod from the former and is beckoned over to Buta’s side with a careless flick of fingers. Once at his side, she allows him to lead her away, back to the base.

They leave so quickly that she completely misses Nezumi step up to the corpse, misses the vial of blood he uncorks and pours over the target and the ground around him, misses the familiar pink hair he sprinkles over the target’s jacket.

All she feels is a mix of disgust and adrenaline, and she carefully doesn’t think why she can’t quite keep a satisfied smile off of her face.

* * *

Sakura survives a month without any major complications. She trains with Neko, works up her ninjutsu arsenal and learns the ROOT sign language and does little missions around Konoha, always supervised by Nezumi.

She also learns just how they trained emotion out of the agents.

“I _told_ you, I can’t _do that_ yet!” she yells at Saru, tears of frustration and pain leaking out of her eyes as she’s whipped again. Her back burns, and it’s only been five lashes so far but she’s young and this body is unused to pain.

“You will do what you’re told, when you’re told.” Saru replies flatly, and it’s the same line they’ve rattled off since she first said she can’t make her Wood Release go through thirty feet of solid concrete.

“Concrete isn’t fertile ground! I need a focusing point, a seed, _something_!” she snaps back, dislocates her shoulder in an effort to wrench herself out of Kuma’s grip when she feels it loosen in surprise and jumps away.

She’s topless and bleeding and her back burns with every breath and her eyes sting with tears and she’s doubtless added another five lashes onto her list, but she’s _six_ and Saru is holding a _cat-o’-nine-tails._

“Lord Danzo has told you that the Shodaime was able to create life out of nothing.” Saru recites dutifully, and Sakura bares her teeth, feels her anger reach a dangerous point.

“And _I_ told _you_ that I’m _not the Shodaime_!” she shrieks, and it might be paranoia, it might be frustration, or it might be the flicker of movement she registers in her peripheral vision and the twist of something dark and ugly in Saru’s chakra, but she slams her palms together and pushes all the chakra she has left, all her emotions and anger and pain and helplessness into the ground.

Roots burst forth, some ten times the width of her torso, some thinner than her forearm, and she’s thrown off balance, forced onto her bleeding, wounded back and she watches as nature, wild and uncontrolled wreaks havoc in the training room.

There’s an ugly squelching sound and Kuma is skewered by a particularly thick root, caught mid-motion with a kunai raised over his head, and Sakura watches in sick fascination as the root enters around the height of his intestines and leaves through his right lung.

Saru just barely avoids the same fate, but can’t quite escape the small root that wraps around his whip-wielding wrist and twists. There’s a crunch and the whip drops to the ground, Saru’s forearm now at a right angle to the rest of his arm.

The entire room now resembles the roots of the gnarled trees Sakura remembers from the Forest of Death, and all she can hear once the chakra she’d pumped into the technique runs out is the steady _drip drip drip_ of blood from Kuma’s direction.

“Dismissed.” Saru orders, and his voice is tight with pain but also something else that sounds an awful lot like satisfaction, and Sakura’s most primal instincts tell her to fear that tone.

She hears the big steel door to the training room open and slam shut, and then she’s alone.

Sakura breathes out and carefully rolls herself onto her front, hissing when her back pulls and the scabbed over wounds tear open. She lies there for what feels like an age, debating whether now would be a good time to experiment and see whether she has enough control for her full-body Mystical Palm or whether she should get over herself and limp to the medic.

And then she’s snapped out of her musings as a body settles beside her.

She twists her head and notes that the figure is also small, but considerably bigger than her. A teen then, maybe, but what matters is that they throw a towel over her back and start nudging her to sit up.

“Hey,” the boy murmurs, and it’s the gentlest Sakura’s been addressed since landing herself in ROOT, “still conscious?”

“Yeah.” she manages after a beat, because nodding sounds like an awful idea right now.

“Your back needs to be cleaned. Will you let me carry you?” the boy – Ōkami, she realises, once she gets a look at his mask – asks, and once she murmurs another ‘yes’, he carefully pulls her to her feet and helps her climb onto his back, piggy-back style.

“I’m sorry to move you, but they’ll probably send someone to destroy your creation soon, and it would be unfortunate to be caught in the middle of that.” Ōkami tells her, and it’s not quite cheerful, but there’s an edge of personality behind the words, and that’s more than Sakura’s heard in a month.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” She manages, cheek pressed to her unlikely saviour’s shoulder as the blood-loss starts making itself known.

They eventually end up in a room that’s almost identical to Sakura’s, with the same two bunkbeds and closets and washbasins, only this room has pages upon pages of artwork stuck to the walls. It’s childish but surprisingly intricate, and familiar in a way she can’t quite place at the moment.

She lets Ōkami set her on the bottom bunk, gratefully accepts the offered painkillers, and rides out the sting of antiseptic and the pierce-and-pull of hand stitches, and the gauze that the teen tapes to her back.

When he’s done, she pillows her head on her folded arms and does her best to send him a smile. “Thank you.” She repeats, and her smile widens when he takes off his mask. She may have overestimated his age in her initial guess, because while the hair is grey, his face still retains the baby-fat of preteen years. Ten to twelve, she would say, though his eyes make him seem older than Kakashi.

“I’m Tori.” She says at last, realising she left her mask in the training room. “Though…” she hesitates, but she doesn’t feel the expected anxiety at what she’s about to say. “I used to be called Sakura.”

“I can see why.” The teen replies, and he doesn’t smile, not quite, but his expression grows warmer nonetheless. “I’m Ōkami, and that lump there is Inu.” He gestures to the top bunk of the opposite bed, where Sakura can just about make out a dark-haired head peeking out from a nest of blankets.

“Before…” he continues, hesitates in that same way Sakura did, “before, I used to be called Shin, and my brother’s name is Sai.”

Sakura freezes.


	4. allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for the lovely comments! 
> 
> for those who asked, yes, the previous chapter had nezumi stage sakura's death. 
> 
> also, the naruto timeline is fucked, so imma be playing fast and loose with the ages. if anyone finds any reliable source claiming otherwise, hmu and i'll change it cause atm my main source of info is from narutopedia, but unfortunately they are guilty of doing 'age: deceased' which is just. SO not helpful. 
> 
> also, tags will be updated as the story develops so as not to spoil too much ;)

_Sai._

Sakura’s thoughts are a maelstrom.

This had been the whole point of reviving an extinct Nature Transformation, of getting caught by ROOT, of risking desensitisation and death willingly and consistently: kill or expose Danzo, and save Sai.

But now, having the boy actually in front of her, the abstract idea of saving Sai becomes a _must._

He is _so small._

At his introduction, he peaks his tiny head out of the nest of blankets and blinks sleepily at Sakura, then goes right back to sleep.

Sakura’s even more thrown by the fact that there’s _life_ in his eyes!

 _Operation: Save Sai has just become a priority._ She thinks wryly, feels the surge of protectiveness in her heart at the soft, snuffling snore that comes from the bunk not a few seconds later.

She turns back to Shin, and she’s not sure what he sees on her face, but the look in his eyes softens just a touch more.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks, and Sakura nods, only just realising that she’s _starving._

She’s a bit woozy and still casually topless, because she’s _six_ and even at eighteen she didn’t have much in terms of breasts so it hardly fazes her, and also she’s got _big, painful wounds all over her back._ Still, Shin must take her sudden silence for discomfort and she barely catches the shirt he throws at her face.

For a kid only about ten or eleven, he’s scarily perceptive and rather hilariously motherly.

Sakura accepts the manju gratefully though she raises an eyebrow at the surprising freshness. Shin’s lip quirks upwards the tiniest bit.

“Our third roommate has… special circumstances.” He says cryptically, and Sakura knows even without asking that that’s all he’s going to say on that matter.

She shrugs and gets the manju down, then lets herself ask the uncomfortable question that had been bothering her since Shin offered to treat her wounds.

“Why did you help me?” she asks quietly, because she’s in _his_ room with _his_ gauze across her back, dressed in _his_ shirt and eating _his_ food, and yet they’re both in an organisation whose very goal is to encourage the ‘every man for himself’ mentality.

It just doesn’t add up.

Shin sighs, but that peculiar quirk to his lip doesn’t disappear, and if not for the fact that Sakura _knows_ otherwise, she would wonder if he too had travelled in time because the look in his eyes is _old._

“The first thing they stamp out in ROOT isn't emotion.” He replies, and he looks tired, world-weary in a way someone who’s not even a teen yet has no right to be.

“It's aggression. That’s why you were punished; not because you couldn’t do what they wanted you to, but because you _resisted._ You're young and you're new, but you fight it, fight the conditioning. You remember that there's another way.”

Sakura frowns, tries not to acknowledge the shiver of sheer _dread_ that runs down her back, instead says;

“You do too, don't you? You helped me, dressed my wounds, brought me to your room. Clearly, you must remember too.”

She’s reaching, testing her luck, testing _Shin_ , because she had planned to keep the fact that she was resisting the conditioning as much she could a _secret,_ but if she could have an ally, someone who clearly also cared for Sai, then maybe…

“I almost don't.” Shin denies, and the almost-smile turns into an unhappy frown. “It's been too long for me. But I try to. Because I can't let Sai forget.”

And that, right there, that devotion… Sakura wonders just _how_ long it had been, and before her brain quite catches up, she asks;

“How long _has it_ been? How long have you been here?”

“Almost three years.” Comes the immediate response, and Sakura’s heart _aches._

She sucks in a sharp breath.

“I'm sorry.” She whispers, even though she should be putting more effort into her cover, into convincing him that she really _is_ six and doesn’t know exactly what she’s signing up for, being in ROOT, but he’s just a _child_ and to think what he must’ve endured… “I'm so sorry.”

And then, because she _can’t not,_ she adds, “And, I'm also sorry but I have to ask... How do I know that this isn't some kind of test?”

To her surprise, the almost-smile comes back, and there’s a glint that looks almost like hope in Shin’s eyes.

“You may yet survive this.” He murmurs, settles on the bed beside her. “You don’t. How about a trade?”

Sakura’s eyes narrow, but she nods hesitantly.

“I am ill. They think it’s terminal.” He says, and Sakura thinks she remembers Sai mentioning something of the like, but to hear Shin say it so matter-of-fact still breaks her heart. “But before I die, I’m going to do everything in my power to bring this organisation down for what it did to my brother.”

Sakura tenses, shocked. “I…” she hesitates. “I could report you for this, you know.”

Because she could. She _should,_ and he has to know that.

“I know.” And the quirk to his lips is bittersweet this time. 

He doesn’t say _but you won’t,_ he doesn’t need to. They both know she won’t.

Sakura is suddenly struck with the realisation that if Shin survived, he would’ve been _terrifying_. That level of manipulation, the skill at reading the tells and responding in kind, of saying a lot while not saying anything much at all, the constant control of trust and the power-balance… Sakura swallows nervously.

“What’s the trade?” she asks, almost inaudibly, and a victorious glint passes through Shin’s eyes for just a millisecond, before it’s hastily wiped away.

“If me and my partner die before we succeed, will you finish what we couldn’t?”

Sakura nods, because that’s what she planned for anyway, then a thought registers. “Who’s your partner?”

Shin smiles, and it’s the first proper smile she’s seen from him since this whole ordeal began, and she’s suddenly breathless.

“I think you’re about to meet him, actually.”

Then, the door opens and Sakura’s breath catches in her throat.

* * *

Shisui limps into his dorm, exhausted and bruised, and he wants nothing more than to sleep and report in the morning, and then maybe he’ll be allowed to go home and see Itachi and play with little Sasuke and forget how the rivers of blood he leaves behind him grow deeper after every mission he runs.

He’s not prepared to find Shin on Kuma’s bed with an unknown, pink-haired child beside him, who’s staring at him with a look he’s only seen on one person before. The thought of his cousin is a fond one, as is seeing the smile Shin directs at him, but the child is still an _unknown,_ and unknowns are _dangerous._

“Shin.” He greets and shuts the door behind him, grabs an apple from his pack before dropping it and his mask on the floor. “Where’s Kuma?”

He doesn’t like his bunkmate, but he’s necessary if Shisui wants to gain Danzo’s trust and be allowed on the guarding rotation.

To his surprise, it’s the child who answers.

“I killed him.” she – or Shisui guesses she’s a she – says, and Shisui shouldn’t be surprised, god knows Itachi started young too, but it’s the girl’s eyes, a mix of curiosity and wariness when she looks at him, but not a hint of guilt, that draw his attention. “Training accident.”

What sort of monster must hide behind the pink hair and guileless eyes, Shisui wonders as he nibbles at his apple, if she can get the drop on the shinobi who’d been ROOT even during the Third War and _survived_?

“Was it now?” he asks coldly and leans against the opposite bunk, expression intentionally unreadable. He trusts Shin, but he should know better than to bring random children into their room or he might jeopardise their whole operation.

His eyes flicker to Shin’s hand which has been twitching annoyingly since he walked in, then he frowns when he realises there’s a pattern to the twitches:

- _L-L-Y-A-L-L-Y-A-L-L-_

He scoffs, and relaxes, letting the tension fade from his shoulders.

“Must’ve been some accident.” He says at last, and he knows he sounds dubious, but the girl just smiles wryly instead of looking offended.

“Tends to happen when you’re messing around with an extinct Nature Transformation.” She replies tartly and shrugs, though Shisui doesn’t miss the wince of pain that flashes over her face at the motion.

Huh, so she _was_ punished. Interesting.

“’Extinct’?” he echoes, when her words fully register, and a peculiar expression flickers over the girl’s face – she’s surprisingly emotive for a ROOT recruit, but the look in her eyes at his question is sharp and challenging.

There’s a second of silence, and then Shisui nearly has a heart attack because the half-eaten apple in his hand suddenly dries up and goes brown, and then it sprouts and a seedling is growing out of his hand in the next second, growing to almost two feet tall before Shisui finally unfreezes and drops it.

The tree doesn’t stop growing once it hits the floor, and he watches, transfixed, as it goes through a many-years’ life cycle in the span of _seconds,_ roots growing out and wrapping around the metal legs of the bunkbeds, winding around Shisui’s ankles, slithering along the floor like wooden snakes, and his brain kicks into gear when flowers begin to bloom on the tree and the scent of spring fills the air.

He flashes through the necessary seals and spits a small fireball at the tree, and for a moment, he’s worried that it won’t be enough, that it’ll keep growing, but within seconds, the tree is reduced to a pile of ash at his feet, and the smell of spring in the air is overwhelmed by the smell not unlike that of a bonfire.

He stares at the girl, momentarily speechless.

There are three options for what he just witnessed, and they’re all insane. _Genjutsu, some time-controlling technique, or Mokuton?_

Then, he realises that she’d said ‘extinct Nature Transformation’ and he almost doesn’t want to believe, but asks anyway;

“Mokuton?” and his voice is quiet, disbelieving, like speaking any louder will break the magic of the moment and he’ll wake up still in the field, delirious from some topical poison.

But the girl nods, and even Shin looks serious so he knows she’s not lying. Shisui sighs and lets himself slide down the bunk and drops on to his bum on the floor, leaning back against the bed.

“Wow.” He murmurs, because he may have the Mangekyo and Itachi may be the youngest in their Clan’s history to unlock the Sharingan, but being one of three people to have the Shodaime’s legendary technique is still something that makes his jaw drop.

“I’m Uchiha Shisui, mask Risa.” He adds belatedly, and the girl offers him a small smile.

“Sakura. My mask is Tori.”

“Well, Sakura,” and Shisui isn’t normally so quick to trust, but Shin must’ve already tested the girl and found her worthy, so he lets the grin he normally keeps for Sasuke surface and moves to sit on his heels, “how do you feel about revolution?”

The smile that blooms on the girl’s face is brilliant and mischievous and bloodthirsty and just a touch unhinged, and Shisui has his answer.

* * *

Things fall into a routine from there, and Sakura is startled when she realises she’s been a ROOT agent for almost half a year.

She barely sleeps in her room anymore, staying instead on Kuma’s old bunk in the boys’ room, and every night, the adrenaline rush at the possibility of being discovered makes her tremble, but the dopamine rush afterwards, when she makes it to their room without detection is totally worth it.

Sakura doesn’t spend time with her bunkmate save for the obligatory weekly training sessions, yet she feels sorry for Neko. The other girl is very obviously an Inuzuka, but her ninken is nowhere to be found, and, Sakura suspects, she never had one. Neko has all the marks, all the aggression and animalistic qualities of a trained Inuzuka, but none of the comfort of partnership that Kiba got from Akamaru, and it shows in their fights. Neko is brutal and aggressive and always first to strike, but she’s also reckless and careless, so despite the advantage of age she has over Sakura, she’s not beating Sakura by an enormous margin in terms of spars won.

(Sakura also wonders how someone from a Clan linked with dog spirits feels at being called ‘Neko’, and can’t help but wonder whether it was intentional.)

As for the boys…

Shisui is _insane_. He’s thirteen and he’s a jounin and an ANBU operative and he’s _fast._ Sakura’s willing to bet that he might even be faster than _Kakashi_ , and she hadn’t, in her old life, been able to match Kakashi in terms of speed even with the Strength of a Hundred seal active. The fact that he’s got the Mangekyo only adds to the insanity.

Shin’s quiet calm occasionally breaks to reveal a sharp sense of humour that reminds Sakura a lot of Shiranui Genma, and the boy’s skill with a blade, be it a tanto or a katana or a nodachi is a little terrifying.

And _Sai_. Sai is the artist Sakura remembers, even if he has trouble animating anything bigger than a mouse at the moment. Sakura finds out that, Shin and Shisui have been taking turns training him in other areas, and that his speed is at the level of genin Sasuke and he can comfortably hold his own against Shin for a minute with a blade in hand.

She adds a touch of her old life to the boys’ training regimen, regaling them with lists of naturally-occurring poisons and their effects and which parts of the body should be struck to knock-out, and which to weaken, and which to kill.

That’s not to say Sakura doesn’t get drilled by the others. Shisui takes her role as co-conspirator to mean _I will train you until I can be certain you’ll survive_ and Sakura finds herself thinking that Tsunade was a gentle mistress. Her speed, however, quickly increases to equal or even superior to Sai’s.

Shin puts a blade in her hand and is promptly _appalled_ and Sakura snarls, because in her previous life, she had never had the need nor the interest to pursue bukijutsu, but she doubts she can whip out her enhanced strength without making her new allies suspicious. But she tries hard and feels most comfortable with twin kodachi in her hands, and though Shin laments that she holds them like a barbarian, she’s efficient, and that’s all that matters.

She improves at a rate that would’ve been alarming had she not been surrounded by child geniuses, and while she can feel the mental strain of trying to pretend the ROOT conditioning is working, the reprieves she gets with the boys are her saving grace.

Nevertheless, she is self-aware enough to know her psyche is fracturing. She’s being torn into three, split into Sakura-the-emotionless-ROOT-agent, Sakura-the-eighteen-year-old-veteran-with-PTSD and Sakura-the-six-year-old, but she’s also aware enough to know that there’s _nothing she can do_ except hope that she doesn’t have a mental breakdown while on a mission.

It’s a worrying thought, but at the moment, it’s just that – a thought.

She has made _friends_ in ROOT, a concept which seems oxymoronic at its core, but it’s true.

Her, Shin and Shisui are united in their desire to burn ROOT to the ground, and she knows that if she stays loyal to the goal, they will stay loyal to her.

Sai is content to just have her around to talk to or sketch with, and she sometimes ends up modelling while he works out the kinks in his drawings, and the surge of fondness and protectiveness doesn’t wane. Sai is subdued, colder than most children their age, but he’s lightyears away from the boy Sakura met in her teens in her previous life, and she’s determined to keep him that way.

Overall, despite the soul-staining missions she’s assigned, and the almost-impossible tasks Saru sets her when she’s working on her Wood Release, and the shift she can feel in her psyche caused by the conditioning, Sakura’s content.

And, as long as her Wood Release keeps improving and she comes back after completing missions, Danzo has no grounds on which to question her continued loyalty.

After eight months in ROOT, Sakura has run more missions than she did in her six years as a kunoichi of Konoha in her previous life. Things are going well.

Then, Shisui introduces her to his cousin, and it doesn’t click just _who_ that is until Sakura’s staring Uchiha Itachi in the face.


	5. test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the wonderful response to this story of mine! i love writing it and seeing y'all enjoying it is incredibly rewarding so thanks!
> 
> if u have any questions, pop them down in the comments! 
> 
> also: let me address something pointed out by MM;  
> in chapt 1, sakura is v clearly killed by narusasu's techniques. thus, she is not rushing to save naruto from himself or sasuke from the massacre because HELLOOOO can anyone say PTSD? 
> 
> she will meet narusasu, worry not, they will be an integral part of this story in due time because i actually LIKE team 7 (ik, ik, shocker for anyone who read PMW) but it's still going to be at LEAST 5-7 chapters before team 7 is introduced.

They're at the only indoor training ground in HQ that isn't entirely made of concrete but has dirt and sand and some trees and even foliage. But Sakura can't appreciate it, frozen as she is by the sight of the face of the man whose loyalty to his Village had destroyed his brother, who had been known as the worst to come out of Konoha save for maybe Orochimaru, still lined with _baby-fat_.

Shin and Sai are beside her, both quiet and still as they wait for Shisui to speak.

Sakura is still cataloguing the differences between Uchiha Itachi, S-Ranked criminal turned martyr patriot and Uchiha Itachi, eleven year old _child_.

He's so _small_ next to Shisui, slighter than even Shin despite the latter's illness, and it's only now that Sakura, presented with the painful reality, realises that Sarutobi had ordered a _child_ to murder his family.

Sakura is suddenly hit with a wave of sheer _loathing_ for the Sandaime.

"Cousin, this is Tori, Inu and Ōkami." Shisui introduces, and Sakura privately finds it curious that he doesn't use their real names. They may be out in the training ground instead of in their sound-proofed room, but it's the middle of the night, a time even ROOT agents sleep, despite the lack of windows to tell the time - the chances of being overheard are low.

Or, she thinks, notes the look Shisui trades with Shin, sees the unspoken message even if she knows not what it is, he doesn't _trust_ Itachi.

"It's a pleasure." Shin murmurs, and Sakura hums in confirmation while Sai nods. "Though I can't help but wonder why the Uchiha heir would come here, of all places?"

Sakura barely restrains herself from shooting Shin an incredulous look, and she sees Sai tense out of the corner of her eye. So she's not alone in thinking that this is uncharacteristic behavior for Shin, but when Shisui relaxes ever so slightly, Sakura reckons she might have an inkling as to what the wordless conversation they'd had had been about.

Itachi, though not the emotionless terror of her memories, hardly reacts beyond a miniscule frown between his brows.

"Father wishes for me to try for ANBU soon." He reports quietly, if tonelessly, voice far softer than Sakura expected. "He believed this would be an... efficient way of testing my capability."

Shin's lip curls, but the smile is mirthless, the expression is far from friendly. "Then I propose a spar. Tori, if you would?"

Sakura can't help the twitch of surprise this time, but she schools her expression when she sees the calculating glint in Shin's eyes, and the relief in Shisui's. She doesn't know what those two are playing at, but she would be lying if she said that, beyond the apprehension at facing a _genius_ , she isn't excited to test the limitations of this body.

She nods sharply and heads for one side of the training ground, not turning to see if Itachi follows. She knows he is.

* * *

 

Sakura lets the barrage of kunai fly, and as the blades are deflected, creates earth clones. The problem with fighting geniuses, she's learnt, is that they either try to end the fight with one punch, because they can, or they underestimate their opponent, allowing them to draw the fight out.

Itachi, Sakura realises, belongs to the latter category.

All the better for her.

She sends one of the earth clones to attack Itachi head-on, unsurprised when it's destroyed before it has a chance to land a single solid hit, but in the time Itachi's attention is diverted, she flashes through the hand-signs and sends chakra-sharpened earth spikes at Itachi, and as he dodges, she uses his moment of inattention to henges one of her clones into a shuriken.

Sakura grabs a handful more shuriken and throws them at Itachi, unsurprised when they're harmlessly deflected, but she sees the tiny flash of surprise when her shuriken-clone is suddenly at the Uchiha's back, kunai drawn.

Itachi dispatches her clone effortlessly, but in that precious second that he's not looking at her, Sakura creates a Shadow Clone and lets herself drop underground in Kakashi's favorite technique, the changeover almost seamless.

She would be worried by being left with a third of her normal reserves if they were in the field, but in the context of this spar, she's unconcerned. She knows neither of them are fighting to kill.

Sakura positions herself under his feet, feels her earth clones pop from a fireball even as her Shadow Clone dodges, and pushes both hands through the ground to grab Itachi's ankle.

She gets a kunai to the hand for her efforts, though she manages to twist so it cuts her forearm instead, and she's inexplicably _angry_ that he got first blood, and that powers her enough to jerk Itachi's foot underground while she surfaces and goes for the trees, chakra hidden.

As Itachi spits a small Water Bullet at his captive ankle, the waterlogged earth giving easily and letting him extract his foot, he misses the moment Sakura kawarimis with her clone, though he meets the barrage of shuriken she throws at him with his eyes blazing Sharingan-red, for the first time since they began the fight.

Sakura doesn't give him time to retaliate, though she can see, with no small amount of satisfaction, that that perfect, unruffled facade is beginning to crumble. She rushes him then, meets his perfect taijutsu forms with Tsunade-trained dodging and Shisui-trained speed, and for all that Itachi is a genius, at their current ability levels, he's _slower_.

Sakura lets a smile bloom on her face and forgets her inhibitions for a moment.

* * *

Shin knows that if Clan Heads were decided on skill, not birth, it would be his best friend as the heir apparent of the Uchiha Clan, not his best friend's cousin.

He also knows that for all that Shisui plays the fool, for all that he's decidedly unlike the rest of the Uchiha, he is probably the best of the Clan, and not just in terms of strength on the battlefield.

Shisui graduated the Academy at 6 years old, became chunin at 7, gained his Mangekyo that same year. ROOT at ten years old, jounin at 11, ANBU at 12 - there was nowhere to go but up, but there was nowhere 'up' for him to _go_.

Which is why Shin didn't hesitate to throw the girl he's slowly beginning to think of as his younger sister at the Uchiha genius. They all have their stories, their secrets, but neither he nor Shisui missed the fact that Sakura seems to be holding something back when they spar, though they can't quite figure out _what_.

Seeing her fight Itachi, it becomes starkly apparent.

Itachi is a renowned child genius, Shisui is a veteran of the Third War at barely fourteen and a jounin at that, Shin is slowly becoming ROOT's bukijutsu expert while Sai is shaping up to be a ferocious long-range fighter and infiltrator, but Sakura may be the best _shinobi_ of them all.

She uses the terrain to her advantage, throws dirt in Itachi's eyes when he gets too close, hides in plain sight and misdirects his gaze and attention away from her, and has no qualms against fighting dirty even in a spar.

More than that, Shin never realised, because _how could he_ when he was usually despairing at her kenjutsu stance, but Sakura's chakra reserves are _enormous_ for her age. Coupled with her control, he's not surprised to see the Uchiha losing ground.

"Is this what you had in mind?" He mutters out of the corner of his mouth, lets himself smile when he feels Shisui link their pinkies for a second and squeeze, before letting go, all the confirmation either of them need.

Together, they've never needed words.

* * *

Itachi doesn't like being a shinobi.

He is one because it's in his blood, because his dojutsu allows him to be the best fighter on the battlefield in any given situation, because he is his Clan's heir and he's been trained to be _better-faster-stronger_ than everyone else since he could walk.

That doesn't mean he enjoys it, not the way some of his clansmen do. But until he is old enough to take over the Clan, he will play the good shinobi and honourable first son, which means he will be _the best._

Somehow, in all his planning and training and subtle undermining of his Father's power-plays, he didn't account for ROOT.

More precisely, he didn't think he'd find _humanity_ in ROOT.

Shisui's been in the shadow ranks since his jounin promotion, and Itachi quickly learnt to tell which missions were with standard ANBU and which were ROOT by the expression in his best friend's eyes when he got back home.

But when Fugaku decided to send him to ROOT and asked Shisui to 'show him the ropes', he didn't expect to find Shisui had made _friends_ in a war-hawks deprived safe-guarding organisation of orphan assassins. The easy, wordless exchange between his cousin and the grey-haired boy, the _softness_ and relief in Shisui's expression... Itachi could admit, if only to himself, that it threw him.

But what throws him the most is that he's _losing._

He's losing to a girl who's no older than his brother, who barely reaches his armpit in height, who, for all intents and purposes, has had no special training yet has _chakra reserves the size of the average chunin and control to match Shisui's._

The only fights Itachi has ever lost since his chunin promotion have been with his Father and Shisui.

He will not lose here.

Sharingan swirling, he switches from the defensive to offensive, throws a fireball to disorient and tracks where the girl dodges to. He flashes there, strikes out with Uchiha Style taijutsu before she has a chance to correct her landing, lands one, two, four hits, dislocating the girl's shoulder with a sickening crunch; then she catches up and gets back into the game of keep-away she's been playing. Itachi lets a small frown show and swoops low, sweeps the girl's legs out from under her, palms a kunai to press into her throat as she falls, but she doesn't stop when she meets the ground back-first, and instead _sinks into it._

Itachi doesn't quite manage to twist out of the way of a barrage of senbon which fly towards him from the _completely opposite side_ of the training grounds, and one hits the nerve in his elbow making him drop the kunai, while another sinks deep into the back of his knee, making it buckle.

 _Aimed at pressure-points._ He catalogues absently, a tad incredulously as he sinks to the ground and turns towards the tree-line, hands flashing through the seals for Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu and hurls them at the trees. Then there's movement by his injured knee that makes him grab for a kunai, and the girl rises up from the ground, grabs the knife he dropped as he fell in her working hand and points it at his throat.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, both breathing hard, her knife at his throat, his at her femoral artery, neither dropping eye-contact until slow applause reaches them from the side-lines.

"I'd say you lost that, cousin-dear." Shisui announces cheerfully, lip quirked ever-so-slightly, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

Itachi and the girl both jerk at that, incredulous and disbelieving. Finally, the girl moves, pockets the kunai and holds out a hand to pull him up.

"Good fight." she murmurs and bends down to pluck the senbon from his knee with a wry smile and a pulse of chakra later, Itachi can put weight on his leg without it buckling.

He waits until she straightens and holds out the Seal of Reconciliation, which she mirrors with an absent smile. "Well fought." he echoes, finally taking a moment to assess what damage she suffered over the course of their spar.

Beyond the dislocated shoulder, there are a few kunai cuts and a small burn on her shin where she didn't fully escape his fire jutsu. She falters when she takes a step, uninjured arm coming up to her stomach with a wince and Itachi has a flash-memory of driving his foot in a vicious side-kick into the soft tissue there and he stifles a guilty flinch.

"Sai-chan," the girl calls, walking off the training grounds and towards the youngest boy, pale and dark-haired in such a way that he wouldn't look out of place amongst the Uchiha, "set this for me, will you?"

Itachi has a moment of heart-stopping panic when he imagines asking Sasuke to set his shoulder and is about to offer to do it himself, but the boy nods and sets about maneuvering the joint back into place.

He turns to his cousin and freezes, because there's a curious, calculating expression on Shisui's face, and an even more odd one on his friend's, a worrying mix of amusement and vindictive satisfaction that he wipes away as soon as he notices Itachi looking.

"If you're wondering why we asked you to spar with Tori, Itachi-kun," the boy says, and Itachi feels distinctly uncomfortable, like he's been laid bare before the boy's eyes and found wanting, "it's because you are an acknowledged and renowned genius out there." he continues and jerks his chin at the ceiling, to indicate what 'there' means, "But Shisui wanted you to remember that you're not _there_ , you're _here_. And here, well." he laughs, but it's humourless and cold, and the smile he offers Itachi is sharp;

"Here there be _monsters_."

* * *

It takes her a year.

A year of being in ROOT, of letting herself become accustomed to the idea of dropping emotions from her decision-making process, of looking at everything around her and thinking ' _I can use this'_ regardless of whether it's an object or a person.

But after a year, and after beating _Uchiha Itachi_ in a spar, Sakura has enough confidence to start planning.

She writes down every major event she can remember, uses a code she and Ino came up with in another lifetime, a code so nonsensical nobody could hope to break it, but it's a piece of home and it _works_ , and she _plans_.

After three odd years in this body, in this timeline, Sakura can finally admit to herself why she went to ROOT.

Deep down, she knew that if she wanted to enact change, she couldn't approach this life emotionally. She needs to be cool and logical and indifferent; a chess player instead of a chess piece, and for that, she needs to be _ruthless_.

Yet, once a paper ninja, always a paper ninja, and it shows in her big goals, and how they break off into small, individual steps.

And the one she's going to devote most of her near future efforts to?

 _Kill Danzo_.

The steps?

Get on the bodyguard rotation, find evidence of the corruption she _knows_ is there, bring said evidence to the Sandaime, disband ROOT for good and have Danzo hanged.

The first step to that?

Sakura needs to prove her loyalty.

She needs to kill Neko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anybody starts screaming 'mary sue she beat itachi!!' lemme get one thing straight:
> 
> sakura had been jounin level in canon, trained under tsunade, has six years of combat experience and a war under her belt, plus ~3 years in this timeline, where the focus has been almost exclusively 'i need to get as strong as possible, as soon as possible' while itachi, genius that he may be, has been a shinobi for 4 years total, chunin, no war and at this point is still in the first stage of the sharingan.
> 
> in other words: fight. me.
> 
> also, i love shin. he is my son. i have no idea how he's meant to be in canon because he appeared for like, an episode if that much, all together. which therefore makes him my plaything.
> 
> also also: setting a dislocated shoulder? ouch.


	6. betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the continued lovely responses to this story! i love reading what you all think about/hope for what will happen next!
> 
> i also loved the overwhelming support for sakura kicking itachi's ass. thank u! <3 and yes, VanyyShep, shin will absolutely take over the world ;)
> 
> oh yeah, for this chapter:  
> tw: drug (ab)use  
> tw: (mild) body horror/mutilation
> 
> (if you have a few minutes to spare, i'd recommend reading through the conversation between Bleep90 and kimchi759 on the subject of the term 'mary sue' on the previous chapter's comments page - i found it incredibly interesting when i was reading through the comments, and kimchi759 does an amazing job at highlighting why mary sue is such a shitty term. 
> 
> tl;dr - the main reason i said 'fight me' if u wanna call sakura a mary sue is because the term is incredibly lazy as a critique. yes, lazy. if you don't like my characterisation, tell me, but explain what it is that you don't like, otherwise i will not be able to improve my writing. gimme that essay of 'your character is shitty because x, y, z' and i will read it with pleasure. leave a comment saying 'your character is a mary sue' and i'll laugh and ignore you.)

A few weeks after her decision, Sakura is called into Danzo’s throne room for what she supposes will be her third ‘performance review’.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Danzo finally speaks; “Your Mokuton is progressing at a satisfactory rate.”

“Sir.” Sakura acknowledges, inclining her head, trying to keep her surprise at the observation out of her voice. Coming from Danzo, it's almost a _compliment_.

“However,” he continues, and despite herself, Sakura tenses, “you have yet to use it on missions, or even in practise outside of your training with Saru. Explain.”

Sakura desperately wracks her brain, tries to come up with something convincing that’s not _I still can’t quite believe I can do it and it trips me up every time._

What she ends up saying is a half-truth. “My ability is...  _distinctive_ , sir. I am not yet proficient enough in it to be able to ensure that any hostiles who witness me use it in combat and come seeking more information aren't led straight to here.” She pauses, thinks, adds, “It would not do if ROOT was discovered because of me.”

There's a moment of silence as Danzo considers her, but eventually, he gives a curt nod.

“That's a valid point.” He agrees, and Sakura almost sags with relief. “Your proficiency in high level ninjutsu, however,” he continues, “has grown at an impressive rate. Enough so, in fact, to trounce Uchiha Itachi in a spar.

Sakura can’t quite mask the wince as alarm bells flare up in her mind, her muscles frozen in her panic. _Of course_ they have some sort of monitoring system in the training grounds. It was foolish to assume otherwise given Danzo’s paranoia.

“Outside of ROOT, they call him a genius.” Danzo says, his expression calculating. “Would you agree?”

 _This is a test._ Sakura’s brain informs her, and she lets the corner of her lips curl ever so slightly as she answers, choosing her words carefully.

“Uchiha-san is undeniably talented. But... with all due respect, sir, I believe that term to be a double edged sword.” To her surprise, Danzo doesn’t ask her to elaborate, just nods.

“And what of his cousin?” Danzo asks, and that feeling of _not right_ in Sakura’s gut gets stronger. “Uchiha Shisui, I believe you're familiar with him.”

Sakura wonders what the Sai she’d met in her first life would have said to this.

“Shisui-san is a capable shinobi.” She acknowledges, tries not to make the fact that she is hedging obvious. “He has taught me a lot.”

But it seems like Danzo is momentarily caught in his own mind, as he doesn’t react to what she said, and instead mutters, “Yes, yes, it would be a shame to lose the expertise of the Uchiha. They have so much to offer...” and the ominous way he trails off sends shivers down Sakura’s spine.

 _This is it._ She realises with a start. _This is how the Massacre came to be._

Then Danzo snaps out of it, and his eye is focused on her. “Are you ready to prove your loyalty?” he demands, and unlike the previous times he'd asked her the same question, this time, Sakura bows her head, sends a quick prayer to the gods for forgiveness and seals her fate.

“Yes, sir. “

* * *

 

The actual fight, Sakura muses, is underwhelming.

Her and Neko are led to one of the most remote training grounds in the base and given a kunai each, their weapons pouches taken away from them before they enter.

Sakura palms a chilli bomb she’d grabbed from her pack before it was taken away, and carefully doesn’t let it show as she faces Neko, kunai drawn.

The other girl is still, tense, but Sakura can feel the energy vibrating beneath her skin, can sense the slight apprehension in her chakra.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

Nezumi says ‘go’, and before he’s even completely finished, Sakura throws the chilli bomb on the ground in front of Neko, and while her Inuzuka nose is momentarily blinded, she coils her kunai-arm back, channels chakra through her muscles, and throws the knife with all her might, the blade surrounded by a blue glow as it flies and strikes true.

The tip of the blade hits perfectly, exactly in between Neko’s thyroid gland and her cricoid cartilage, piercing straight through her trachea and not pausing as it meets her spine, severing cartilage and flesh and bone alike, until it comes out at the other end and embeds itself into the wall behind Neko.

The girl stands there for a moment, seemingly uncomprehending, then her legs give out and she falls to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, dead.

Sakura has a moment of grim satisfaction at the knowledge that she’s a step closer to her goal, then the horror hits.

She staggers over to Neko, ignores the stupefied onlookers because the fight didn’t even last five seconds, and drops to her knees beside the corpse. A necklace catches her eye, ninja wire wrapped meticulously around what looks like a canine tooth, dangling from a leather thread. Sakura grabs Neko’s kunai from her limp hand and carefully cuts the tooth free, stows it in her pocket and gently closes the girl’s eyes before she rises to her feet.

Her head is pounding, bile is rising up her throat, and she feels like she’s a second away from throwing up, disgusted with herself, but she stands before Nezumi until he nods and hands her back her weapons pouch and promptly dismisses her.

Sakura disappears between one breath and the next.

* * *

 

It's Sai who finds her.

Well, not Sai himself, but one of his swallows swoops into the ventilation duct she’s hiding in. Sakura almost throws one of her senbon at the bird, but she supposes she's indulged in her self-disgust long enough.

(has it been minutes? Hours? _Days_? She doesn’t know.)

Surprisingly, not two minutes after the swallow, Shisui appears at the mouth of the vent. This time, she does throw her senbon, but Shisui just bends out of the way and shuffles closer.

“I feel like asking 'are you alright' is an obsolete question.” He points out, and Sakura doesn’t even have the energy to snort.

“I killed Neko.” She says instead, and even she can hear the absolute lack of inflection in her voice. “I'm on Danzo's guard rotation.”

Shisui seems nonplussed. “I thought we'd established that as one of our goals.”

Anger stirs in Sakura’s gut, and Shisui is too close to her to dodge the senbon this time, but she isn't aiming to hurt. _Much_. 

“I bartered her life like it was mine to barter!” she snarls, ignores the tears that spill. “And I didn't _care_ because it was just another step in getting from A to B!” 

Shisui sighs, sounding world-weary and a touch exasperated, and Sakura sees red. “Most of the time, I'm immensely grateful that the conditioning doesn't seem to work on you as well as it should. But damn it, Sakura, this isn't the place for scrupules.”

As if it was never there, Sakura’s anger evaporates. He’s right, she realises with a start. She’d sworn to throw away her morals this time around, to discount emotion in her decision-making process. This… this is falling straight back into old habits, and she can’t afford to let herself be weak like that again. She needs to be cold, efficient, needs to do everything in her might to ensure that this reality is better, even if it means cutting away an integral part of herself.

That’s what she came to ROOT for, after all.

"You're right.” She says at last, her voice sounding hollow.

 Sakura falls into herself, drops into her fragmented mind-set and wrenches up the one she'd most viciously repressed, the one that had absorbed almost all the conditioning, that saw Neko's death as a necessary sacrifice and refused to feel remorse.

 When she opens her eyes, she knows what Shisui sees: nothing.

She's as empty of self as Sai had been when she'd first met him, and it feels _liberating_.

Shisui must realise what she's done because he swears and pulls her into a rough embrace. "This is not what I meant. _Fuck_ , Shin is going to kill me."

Before she has a chance to puzzle out what he means, she feels the tug of side-along shunshin and when she blinks, they're back in their room, Sai and Shin shooting them twin looks of confusion.

But Shin must see the expression on her face and connects the dots, because for the first time she's known him, he looks truly angry.

"God damn it, Shisui, you could've handled that better." He snaps and rises to his feet, pulling Sakura out of Shisui's arms and into his own. He tucks her head under his chin and pulls them both to sit on his bed, all but manhandling her onto his lap.

Shisui hesitates, torn between turning tail and staying, but a glare from Shin keeps him from bolting. With a sigh, the teen settles on Shin's other side and sets to rubbing Sakura's back, and it's more comforting than it has any right to be.

Eventually, in what could’ve been minutes or hours, she forces the cold aloofness back down, keeps the _must not hesitate_ mantra close to the surface but summons back the presence of mind to recognise when the emotional distance is necessary and when she can simply let herself _be_. She comes back to herself enough to note that Shin winces minutely every time she tightens her arms around his chest. 

She's still not tried out her medical ninjutsu, wary of doing so in ROOT, where her ability would be immediately exploited and might separate her from her boys, but a chakra net is undetectable and not technically iroyu-nin jutsu.

What she finds, however, when she casts it over Shin’s body, makes her freeze.

"Your ribs are cracked." She breathes, horror in her voice, because she _knows_ what causes that particular type of fractures. 

The way Shin tenses beneath her hands tells her all she needs to know. 

"I told you. I'm _ill_ , Sakura-chan." He explains tiredly, but this time, Sakura hears exactly what he’s _not_ saying.

"But I never hear you cough!" it never occurred to her before, but for someone who’d said ‘they think it’s terminal’ about his illness, who Sakura absently remembers having a _lung disease_ from what the Sai from her other life had said, Shin doesn’t have the most important and obvious _symptom_ of lung disease.

"Aniue has a silencing seal around his bed." Sai informs her helpfully, and she feels more than hears the curse Shin breathes into her hair. 

Sakura ignores her horror at that, ignores the little voice that tells her Shin hadn’t realised Sai _knew_ , and concentrates instead, brings the medic she’d supressed to the front of her mind, then says; “What medicine do you take? Because I should’ve heard you cough. We might not go on missions together all that often but we still spend time together. I _should have_ heard you.”

Shin doesn’t move, so Sakura digs her nails into his skin, and he winces at the sting even through the shirt. There’s no getting out of this now. She _needs_ to know.

Grudgingly, Shin manhandles her off of his lap and onto Shisui’s and moves to dig something out from under the bed, coming up with a small metal box and a glass bottle.

He opens the box, and inside Sakura sees something that looks suspiciously like dark molasses. When she leans down to lightly sniff the substance, a heavy, bitter stench fills her nostrils and she flinches back, coughs.

 _Opium._ She realises with no small amount of horror. _Raw opium._ She chances a glance at the label on the glass bottle and is not particularly surprised when she reads _Laudanum._

“You’re an addict.” She breathes, feels more than sees Shin jerk at the term beside her. “You have to be by now.”

“I’m a _survivor_.” Shin snaps, and Shisui’s arms tighten around her to the point of almost-pain. “And in case you haven’t noticed, our options in terms of health-care are rather limited.”

Sakura’s quiet, horror-struck. Her momentary crisis of faith in their goal caused by her fight with Neko is a distant memory by now, presented as she has been by a boy she’s starting to think of as a _brother_ turning himself into an addict just to survive this hell they’re stuck in.

“We’ll fix this.” She says quietly, her eyes intent on Shin. He meets her gaze and just gives her that tiny, heartbroken smile of his that tells her that he doesn’t believe her, that he’s long given up hope, but Sakura doesn’t _care_.

She’d surpassed a _Sannin_ in her previous life, both on the battlefield and in the hospital, and she didn’t have _half_ the motivation then as she has now.

She will cure Shin, or die trying.

* * *

After that, life returns to what the four of them have gotten used to calling ‘normal’.

Shin is slightly bemused, because Sakura seems to be taking the promise of ‘fixing him’ seriously. In the last six monthly supplies requests that are included in ROOT’s budget, she’d requested progressively more advanced medical texts, shocking Shisui when she healed a burn he sustained after playing around with Katon two months into her self-study.

Sai is also progressing at a mildly alarming rate with his animated creations, his _Chōjū Giga_ unpredictable and so versatile Shin is terrified of the day Danzo discovers just _how_ useful Sai’s art can be.

Shisui is the one that worries him the most, however. His best friend has been absent for almost five weeks, and whenever he’s been in ROOT for the last three months, he looked ragged and weary, weighed down in a way that Shin doesn’t believe was down to simple physical exhaustion.

He even missed Sakura’s eighth _birthday_.

(Sakura didn’t seem too heartbroken, because Shisui’s gift once he came back was an enormous scroll with a familiar uchiwa fan that Shin didn’t think was anything other than stolen, but Sakura had smiled and Shisui had relaxed, so Shin had kept his silence.)

And now, he watches as Sai spars with Sakura, pure taijutsu and no chakra, when suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he’s moving, twisting and shifting his weight before the action quite registers, ready to throw whoever it is on the ground. But the person reacts even quicker, twists Shin’s arm behind his back and yanks him into their chest and it’s only then that Shin smells the mix of smoke and ozone that he’s come to associate with Shisui, and he relaxes, if only slightly.

(the main problem is that he hadn’t heard or sensed Shisui _at all,_ and that hasn’t happened for over two _years_. They’d already joked that they’d put a bell on Shisui’s collar, like the cats Shisui’s told him tend to wander round the Uchiha district, but now Shin thinks that he might actually have to do it because this is _ridiculous_.)

He huffs a laugh at his thoughts, but his good humour vanishes when Shisui bends down and murmurs “I need to talk to you.” in his ear, and his voice alone is enough to make Shin _afraid_.

They reappear in their room, and Shin gestures at his bed, quirks a wry smile when Shisui’s expression shifts as he remembers about the silencing seals. They settle down across each other, and Shin prepares to wait patiently until Shisui gets through whatever he has to say.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“The Uchiha are planning a coup d’état.” Shisui announces gravely, his expression grim. “And the Hokage tasked me with stopping it.”

Shin must’ve been quiet for too long, stunned by what his best friend’s just revealed, but still conscious enough to realise that asking ‘you’re kidding, right?’ wouldn’t sit well with the current mood, because Shisui starts talking.

No, not talking. _Rambling._

“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot out of nowhere and you have enough to worry about as is, but I don’t know who else to turn to and Sakura said there’s nothing wrong with depending on each other, and–!”

“Shisui.” Shin cuts him off, coming back to himself enough to smile and lay a reassuring hand on the terrified Uchiha’s knee.

(Because that’s what it was, he realises belatedly, and the realisation hits him like a brick – Shisui hasn’t been distant on purpose, no, he’s been _terrified_.)  

“Tell me everything.” He says simply, and Shisui _does._

Shin listens with rapt attention as the teen talks about the Kyuubi attack, the Uchiha Clan’s founder, Madara’s Sharingan’s ability to manipulate the bijuu, the distrust of the Village, the anger of the Clan’s Elders, the fearmongering amidst the Uchiha and finally, Shisui’s own ability.

Kotoamatsukami.

Shin has never been particularly ambitious. But hearing what Shisui says about the technique, a genjutsu of the highest, most terrifying sort, imperceptible and so dangerous and taxing it can only be used once a decade, he can see why Shisui is terrified.

But also –

“You can’t trust them.” Shin orders, and even to his ears he sounds frantic. “Whatever happens, promise me, you won’t trust them completely.”

“I- what?” Shisui asks, and he’s puzzled, but Shin needs this to _register_.

“What you’re talking about – Kotoamatsukami – do you have _any_ idea what Danzo would do to get his hands on power like that?” he demands, and Shisui blinks.

“But the Sandaime-!”

“The Sandaime is _blind_.” Shin snaps, because for all that Shisui is unlike the Uchiha, for all that he burns with the Will of Fire and sheer belief that everyone can be saved, that same fire blinds him to what’s directly in front of him.

“ _Listen_ to me! You cannot trust Danzo. You cannot let your guard down. And you shouldn’t trust the Sandaime either. The man would sooner cull an entire Clan than risk- _oh_.” Shin cuts himself off, his eyes wide as he processes what he’s just said.

Oh _no._

Because he’s the most affected by the conditioning out of the four of them, he can see _exactly_ what decision seems the most logical once you remove guilt and emotion from the equation.

And that- that would _break_ Shisui.

Luckily, his best friend seems blissfully ignorant to his revelation.

“What do I do, then?” he asks, and it’s not hopeless, not quite yet, but far too close to it for Shin’s tastes.

He lays his other hand on Shisui’s knee as well and leans forward with a smile. “You _plan._ ”

* * *

 Shisui is sitting on his bed, elbows resting on his knees and head hanging low, staring at the floor, eyes unseeing, contemplating – not _brooding_ , fuck _you_ Shin, this is _serious_ -! – when Sakura enters.

He doesn’t look up until the girl gets close and drops to her knees in front of him, forcing him to look at her or they’d butt heads.

The expression on her face is… strangely, unfathomably, _understanding_.

“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you.” She says, but it doesn’t sound like a question. If anything, she sounds sad.

“What do you know?” he asks, because he’s been preparing to genjutsu Fugaku into forgetting about the coup for the last _week,_ but he hasn’t told anybody that he’d decided he was going to do it tomorrow, not even Shin. Not even _Itachi_.

Then again, Sakura has had a knack for knowing things she should’ve had no way of knowing since he met her. From her enormous range of elemental ninjutsu for a civilian orphan, to her ability to identify Shin’s medication at a glance when Shisui himself didn’t even know what his best friend was taking, to little pieces of history she talks about sometimes, most often with Sai, and a quick shared glance with Shin would tell him that he hadn’t been the one to teach her either.

“I know you’re sad.” She says quietly, then adds, “And I know you’re scared. And I know that for all you play a fool, you’re not one. Trust yourself, Shisui-niisan.”

Shisui jerks, both at the words and at the title directed at him, but Sakura’s already rising to her feet, flowing like the water she commands, but her hand falls to rest lightly on Shisui’s head, small fingers gently carding through his hair.

Shisui can’t read the expression on her face, but he still wants to reassure her, to say everything will be alright, even though he himself does not know that for sure.

But most importantly, he wants to know why Sakura looks like she’s never going to see him again.

* * *

Less than twenty four hours later, he knows.

He is outside the Uchiha Clan’s grounds, waiting until he feels Fugaku’s distinctive chakra signature head towards the shrine, when he is attacked.

Danzo reveals himself from the shadows, and it is only because he was warned about it, only because both Shin and Sakura looked at him like he was going to his death the day before, only because of _two children,_ that he dares distrust the Elder.

So when Danzo attacks, Shisui doesn’t stop at the genjutsu in his attempt to subdue him, suddenly wary. Danzo’s countering of his genjutsu with the forbidden Izanagi throws him more than he’d care to admit, but not enough to stop the movement of his tanto, Wind-natured chakra giving the blade an edge needed to cut through the Elder’s arm and sever bone and muscle alike.

But Shisui is still too slow, reeling with shock and adrenaline, to ward off the ROOT agents who come at him when their leader staggers, but the pain of having his right eye ripped out proves enough to jar Shisui into action, and he summons his flock to blind his opponents and cover his escape.

Shisui staggers away from the battle, shunshins out of the compound and closer to the Naka Shrine, and he swears when he feels Itachi’s chakra follow him. He has enough time to pen a hasty note and have one of his crows drop it in his room before Itachi reaches him. 

It’s too soon, he realises with a jolt, he’s not _ready_ , he was meant to _be there_ for Itachi, to help him find a way to save their Clan. This, what he's about to do, was only meant to be a worst-case-scenario plan in case Shin's pragmatic pessimism proved true, it was never meant to be _Plan A_.

But now, with Danzo already in possession of one of his eyes, he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do anything other than what he and Shin had come up with.

His other eye is surrendered voluntarily, the pain almost not registering, and he’s glad that he can’t see the shock and heartbreak on Itachi’s face.

“I’m sorry, cousin.” He says quietly, holds on until Itachi’s crow secures his eye, and lets himself drop over the edge of the cliff, ignorant of the desperate hands that reach for him.

A familiar chakra signature waiting for him at the bottom is his only comfort as he finally loses consciousness.


	7. plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooo uni has let me out of its clutches in the unexpected gift of 'reading week' so i had enough time to come back to the draft of this chapter that had been languishing on my desktop since september and finally flesh it out! 
> 
> a loooot of things are addressed in this chap, so if you have any questions/anything is unclear, leave a comment and i'll explain or include it in the next chap's A/N if it turns out to be a frequent question. 
> 
> now, i just want to address two comments from the previous chapter:
> 
> firstly, massive thank-you to @hakuen for hitting the metaphorical nail on the head with their comment in regards to Sakura's mary-s*e status in this story: 'if we're willing to suspend disbelief for the entire Naruto universe, this isn't actually further to stretch. And it's a time travel fix-it fic, c'mon, it's going to be gloriously overpowered self-indulgence by DEFINITION' -- precisely. this is nothing short of self-indulgent and i make no pretenses at it being anything else. 
> 
> secondly, @zanielneko's comment about characterisation; 'I just felt that though they are elite shinobi they came across as children sometimes which isnt a bad thing. It's only way i can think to describe what i would consider slight foolishness in thought and action' -- that is precisely the point. they ARE children. sai is eight, shin is thirteen, shisui barely sixteen. sakura, although technically having the memories of her previous life, has been hinted at being in a mental tug-of-rope with her ACTUAL 8-year-old self in previous chapters, and is also fresh out of a war and a PTSD-induced suicide. she gon be rash and irrational, give the girl a break. 
> 
> (p.s. i love shisui too much to kill him, c'mon people)

“You’re such an _idiot_!” is the first thing Shisui hears once he regains consciousness, and he blinks, only belatedly realising that he can’t blink the darkness of his vision away because he can’t _see_ anymore. “We said _jump_ not _throw yourself down!_ You could’ve hit your head on a goddamn rock and that would’ve been _it_!”

“Aniki.” Just one, mild word, but the rustle of fabric and a deep, aggravated breath from Shin as he subsides tell Shisui all he needs to know about the speaker. _This wasn’t part of the plan._ “You planned for this?”

“Only as a worst-case-scenario.” Shin dismisses, and there are hands under Shisui’s arms now, and he flinches at the touch, unable to predict or prepare himself for the contact. He’s manoeuvred into a sitting position and something soft and heavy is thrown around his shoulders, and it’s only then that he realises he’s shivering.

“But I forgot I was dealing with an Uchiha and therefore what can go wrong, inevitably _will_.” Shin grumbles, and there’s a soft snort from Sakura, before small hands settle on Shisui's cheeks.

Immediately, warmth begins to course through his body, as sudden and unnatural as a fever, but preferable to the bone-deep cold from the Naka River and his still-wet clothes. It’s only when he feels himself slump that Shisui realises that all his little aches and pains and stiff joints and protesting muscles have been loosened or healed to the point that they don’t register anymore, and his eyes- eye _sockets_ – aren’t burning anymore.

“Did you- heal me?” he asks, stupefied, feeling more than hearing Shin snort.

“Mm.” Sakura hums, then a bundle of heavy, thick material is placed in his arms. “You should change, niisan.”

Shisui rises to his feet, but Shin has to catch his elbow when he staggers, unused as he is to complete lack of vision and completely relaxed, healed muscles.

“C’mon, I’ll help.” Shin offers and leads him away, further than Shisui expects, but it becomes clear _why_ when he doesn’t feel Sakura’s chakra signature follow after them.

“I know bringing her along wasn’t part of the plan.” Shin begins as soon as they come to a stop, pulling Shisui’s shirt over his head. “But the Fire Temple is over two hundred kilometres from here. I managed to put together an emergency pack that should last you about a fortnight – clothes, food, first aid, the lot – but I realised that this might be your last chance to see a medic for a while.”

Shisui feels like he’s outside of his body, listening in like a bystander or an intruder; distant and dazed. “Being blind should give more credibility to my shinobi-turned-monk backstory, hm?” he asks absently, a touch hysterically, and Shin tries for a laugh but it comes out more like a sob.

He feels Shin drop his head on his shoulder and almost manages not to twitch towards his kunai pouch. “This was only meant to be a last-resort.” Shin breathes against his chest, his voice pained, regretful.

Shisui carefully places his hand on his friend’s head and lets himself acknowledge the bitterness that’s roiling within him, the anger, the cries of _unfair! Unfair!_ that he’ll never voice.

“You know how this will end.” He whispers, but it’s not a question. He’d slowly begun to realise, as he was falling to what could’ve,  _should've_  been his death, just how far Shin can see, just how much he can extrapolate with only the bare bones of a situation to go on.

“I know nothing.” Shin denies, not moving from his position. “But I have theories.”

Shisui sighs. “I do, too.” Then, feeling the burn of tears, he forces out, “And if the most likely one happens- they’ll ask Itachi to do it, won’t they?”

He feels Shin swallow, but they’ve never lied to each other, so he knows they won’t start now. “Most likely. After you, he’s your Clan’s strongest.”

“But loyal to the Village more than the Clan.” Shisui points out, desperate to ensure they’re on the same page.

“There’s that too, yeah. But the Clan doesn’t know, does it?” Shin acknowledges, and Shisui shudders.

“That’ll be-” he starts, but can’t actually get the words out.

“It will be what it will be, but it _won’t_ be your problem.” Shin cuts him off, and Shisui snorts, knows that, despite the harsh words, his best friend is comforting him. And succeeding.

“Save Izumi.” Shisui says suddenly, an idea striking him with all the subtlety of a thunderclap. “Izumi and the children. They’re innocent, they have no part in this.”

“I’ll try.” Shin concedes, but Shisui is incensed now, burning with fury and desperation, and he grabs his friend by the shoulders and puts them face to face, even though he can’t see.

“Do _better._ ” He demands, and Shin must read something in his expression because he lays his hand over Shisui’s and squeezes.

“I will.”

They stand in silence for a few minutes, soaking in each other’s presence, before Shisui pulls back and raises his hands to his best friend’s face. He knows what Shin looks like, but he tries to marry what he can feel with what he can remember, and Shin lets him.

“Sakura says goodbye, by the way.” Shin murmurs eventually, and Shisui’s fingers falter in their task.

“Are we not going back to her?” He asks, surprised and a touch disappointed. He feels Shin shake his head.

“She doesn’t want to know where you’re going. She says the fewer people that know, the safer you will be.” Shin explains, and Shisui feels a wave of fondness almost bowl him off his feet, but the corners of his eyes sting.

“Goddamn precious, paranoid _brat_.” He breathes, but it’s more of a sob than a complaint. “Tell her that- in the Uchiha shrine. After everything is- after- when it’s _safe_ , under the floorboard by the door, there’s something I want her to have.”

Shin hums, and Shisui wonders if he’s puzzled by the sudden secrecy, but his best friend just wraps his hands around his wrists and squeezes. “I’ll let her know.”

Another bout of silence falls over them, then Shisui sighs and drops his hands from Shin’s face, dropping the pretence of ‘mapping’ and slumps forward, feeling Shin catch him with a start.

He’s sixteen, a jounin, an ANBU, ex-ROOT, the fastest in his Clan, trusted by the Hokage with the most dangerous and secretive of missions, yet this – leaving his friends behind, leaving _Shin_ – feels like the most difficult decision he’s had to make.

As testament to their friendship, Shin makes it for him. “Go.” He orders quietly, helping Shisui back to his feet. “Before the Clan starts looking for you. You’re slower, remember. It’ll be more difficult to evade pursuit.”

“It won’t come to pursuit.” Shisui mumbles, but the reminder firms his resolve. He takes the backpack Shin presses into his hands and swings it over his shoulders, feels the weight settle at the base of his spine, and hears a rustle of material as Shin throws a travelling cloak over him and tugs the makeshift headband down over his eyes.

It feels definite.

“Travel safe.” Shin wishes him, his voice oddly strained. “I’ll send you some Aburame eyewear when I can.”

“Just make sure they’re monk-appropriate.” Shisui jokes, a last, ditch attempt at his usual humour, then he’s off.

Shin watches him go until he can no longer sense his chakra, then returns to the river bank.

There’s a pile of ashes where Shisui’s wet clothes used to be, and as Shin approaches, Sakura makes the ground underneath the pile disappear, forming a hole whose bottom he cannot see, and a second later, the hole is gone, the ash nowhere to be seen, and the riverbank looks the same as always.

 _Erasing evidence._ Shin realises absently, at once amused and baffled by this slip of a girl who manages to think of everything, even things he wouldn’t.

“You sure you don’t want to know where he’s going?” Shin asks, just to make sure.

“Where who’s going?” Sakura replies right back, deadpan and nonplussed. “Shisui’s dead.”

And Shin – Shin has to admire that self-discipline, even if the look in Sakura’s eyes gives him pause. There’s…nothing there. Just glassy emerald reflecting the turbulent river and a face less expressive than stone.

They stand in silence for a moment, then Sakura sighs. “We should head back.”

They do, and just before they enter one of the hidden passages that leads into ROOT, Shin stops her and relays Shisui’s wish, as well as the location of the ‘gift’. Sakura regards him for a moment then nods, and they descend into the darkness of ROOT hand in hand.

* * *

Five days after the Shisui Incident, Sakura is sent on a mission. It’s a basic assassination, in and out, leave-no-trace, but the time alone gives her the necessary space to go over recent events.

Firstly, Shisui is _alive._ That is a big change from her timeline, and she doesn’t want to attribute it to her presence in this world, but that’s the only independent variable she’s playing with; if not her, then _what?_

Secondly, Shin seems dead-set on continuing their involvement in the events that she knows will lead to the Uchiha Massacre. He seemed to have taken Shisui’s words as if they had been written in his will, so gung-ho he is about seeing his promise through.

Sakura is… torn.

She’d entertained the possibility of trying to prevent the Massacre, in those first few weeks before she decided to join ROOT, but short of revealing herself as a time-traveller and sharing all the knowledge she has of the future, she could think of few other ways of stopping such a monumental event. She felt guilty, at first, but, ironically, ROOT helped with that – they drove home the lesson that guilt is a useless, unproductive emotion.

But now, Shisui’s wish and Shin’s insistence on seeing it through has offered an alternative path – a way of lessening the destruction that Itachi and Obito are going to wreak.

The only problem is, she knows that she needs Itachi’s participation for it to work.

And that means revealing at least part of her knowledge to a _genius,_ to a man who is going to kill his family in cold blood in the name of his Village, take the blame, singlehandedly ruin Sasuke, ruin one of the most notorious organisations in the Nations, and then be remembered as a _hero._

There is no way involving Itachi isn’t going to come back to bite her in the ass.

But she has to.

Sai’s art is evolving to almost on par with what Sakura remembers from her life, and she knows that in a couple of weeks, life-sized boats will not be a problem for the artist. Shin, _somehow_ , has contacts in a lot of the civilian villages in the Land of Fire and has sent out letters to see who would be willing to take in a nameless orphan with only the vaguest promise of financial support.

It therefore falls to her to contact Itachi.

Sakura sighs and removes her senbon from her target’s throat, wiping the needles clean before stowing them back in her pack as she eases the dead noble back to the bed.

_Fucking peachy._

* * *

Fate, however, seems to smile down at her, because the problem of _how to contact Itachi_ is taken out of her hands – Itachi contacts her first.

Well.

_Technically._

A week after she was sent out on her mission, Sakura returns in the early hours of the morning, when the Village is asleep and even Gai isn’t training yet. Taking the opportunity for what it is, she stows her mask away and henges her outfit into the simple white-and-navy of the Uchiha, while her hair and eyes turn onyx. Her chance of discovery is low, but she doesn’t want to tempt fate more than she already is, going into the Naka Shrine by herself, when there’s a Clan full of Uchiha who can find her out.

But she enters without hitch.

She stays in the entryway, the big double doors a few paces in front of her covered with so many seals she doesn’t even know where to start, but she doesn’t need to. Shisui hadn’t said ‘the main hall’, so she kneels, and starts searching.

The fourth floorboard by the door she tries comes away in her hand.

Beneath it, covered in dust and spiderwebs, is a scroll.

It is quite big, off-white, with burgundy ends edged with gold. Sakura takes it out and hesitates – the scroll is _old,_ that much is clear, and undoubtedly valuable.

She unfurls it.

There are two names on the inside of the scroll, one written in beautiful, careful calligraphy, the type that Sakura struggles to read, much less even dream of trying to replicate, and another in a lighter hand, almost cheerful in comparison, with bumpy, uneven characters and enthusiasm that can be felt simply through looking at the writing.

_Uchiha Izuna._

_Uchiha Kagami._

It doesn’t strike her immediately _what_ she’s looking at, but when it does, she sucks in a sharp breath.

A summoning scroll.

Shisui left her a _summoning scroll._

The _Uchiha’s_ summoning scroll.

Her head swims and she has to take a few deep, slow breaths as the weight behind the action registers, then she carefully rolls the scroll back up and shoves it in her pack.

She cannot afford to be caught trespassing, much less caught trespassing and _stealing_ from the Uchiha.

Sakura bids a hasty retreat, circles back through to the forest, to where she knows one of the entries into Danzo’s hideout is, but as she nears, she feels a distantly familiar chakra signature already there.

“You can drop the henge.”

Sakura freezes.

She had meant to find Itachi, to broach the topic of the Massacre with him, to talk about Shisui’s wish.

But not like this.

She emerges into the clearing, and he’s there, dressed in what she’s tempted to call pyjamas, even though his hair is immaculate as always and he has his ninja sandals on.

“Good morning, Uchiha-san.” Sakura offers instead, and keeps the henge.

“Good morning,” Itachi returns, meets her gaze and holds it, then adds, “ _Tori_.”

Sakura sighs and drops the henge.

“What were you doing?” Itachi demands, and his tone makes it clear he does not trust her as far as he could throw her in that moment. “Why were you in the shrine?”

“I wanted to offer my respects.” Sakura says simply, sees the flinch Itachi doesn’t quite manage to smother.

“By trespassing?” he presses, and this time, Sakura offers him a wan smile.

“It’s far from the worst thing I’ve ever done.” She tells him honestly, and it’s true, and they both know it. Sakura changes subjects when Itachi hesitates. “Question is, Uchiha-san, why were _you_ here? It’s barely four in the morning.”

Itachi gives her a _look_ , “I sensed an intruder. It was my duty to investigate.”

“Yours? And not the guards’ at the gate?” Sakura raises an eyebrow.

Now that the panic has receded and she has the opportunity to look closer, Itachi looks _wrecked._ The stress lines under his eyes are deeper than they were the last time she saw him, his eyes are bloodshot and the bags under them are lilac edging into purple.

She tries her luck.

“It looks to me more like you’re having trouble sleeping, Itachi-san.” She shoots back, but she keeps it as an observation instead of an accusation, and Itachi visibly startles, but whether at the bluntness or the change in address, she can’t be sure. “Have you been eating at all?”

“That is none of your concern.” Itachi replies icily once he collects himself, and his eyes narrow once again.

“No.” Sakura agrees, because it really _isn’t_ , then, “But it would’ve been Shisui’s.”

This time, Itachi doesn’t even attempt to mask the flinch. “I killed him.” he says hoarsely, daring Sakura to protest. “I doubt he would care for my well-being.”

He’s squared his shoulders, and his chakra is a roiling mess beneath his skin, and Sakura has no doubt that if he had his Sharingan active, she would be in trouble.

(the fact that he still hasn’t activated his Sharingan doesn’t strike her as odd until _after)_

“Itachi-san,” she says softly, stepping forward, watching Itachi’s hand twitch towards his kunai pouch. “I know the truth.”

It’s like watching a balloon deflate.

All the fight evaporates out of Itachi’s posture, but it is quickly replaced with wariness, and the look in his eyes is suspicious and challenging. 

“How?” he demands sharply. 

Sakura smiles and leans closer. “I’m on Danzo’s personal guard rotation.” She admits, and Itachi tenses. She meets his eyes, firms her expression, and adds, “I know _everything._ ”

It might be her words, might be her tone, her expression, or Itachi’s desperation, but a second later, Itachi’s eyes flash red and she’s falling head-first into Tsukuyomi.

* * *

For one of the first few times in his life, Itachi _panics_.

The Tsukuyomi is instinctive, unintentional, but once he’s got the girl in the red-and-black mindscape, he thinks this might be an _opportunity._

The girl – Tori – as yet another bewildering fact since he’s first come across her, doesn’t even seem scared of the cross she’s nailed too, and is instead looking around the mindscape with almost _scientific_ curiosity.

“This is… incredibly elaborate.” She murmurs, almost more to herself than to him, then makes a face of confusion. “I did _not_ mean to say that out loud.”

“This illusion traps your mental ‘self’, not your physical.” He answers the unspoken question. “Your thoughts are heard here.”

 “Then I think you should let me down.” She says, or thinks, judging by her part amused, part shocked expression, and Itachi, for lack of a better way to explain it, _thinks away_ the cross and restraints, and the girl drops from the spread-eagled position to stand before him.

They regard each other in silence for a few seconds, then she speaks.

“I know what they asked you to do.” She tells him frankly, and the bluntness shocks Itachi so much he can feel his pulse jump. “And I know you didn’t kill Shisui, Itachi-san.”

His hand is around her throat before he can stop himself, even though this is his mindscape and there are no witnesses. He looks into her eyes, his own brimming with tears, “Say it.”

She doesn’t need more prompting. “They asked you to kill your family.” She wheezes, the words strained due to his hand around her throat but intelligible. He lets go as if burned.

“My _Clan_.” He corrects, the tears falling freely now. “I have to kill my _Clan_.”

The girl is silent for a moment, then she steps closer. Itachi is beginning to suspect she wouldn’t know self-preservation if it hit her in the face.

“I cannot even _pretend_ to know what you’re going through.” She says, and Itachi snorts, because that feels like the first honest thing he’s heard from anyone this past week. “But I can help make it less tragic.”

Itachi snaps to attention.

“If you plan it right, nobody will know.” She explains, seeing his wide eyes and clear ‘elaborate _now_ ’ expression. “But you might be able to save the innocent.”

“Who?”

“The children, Itachi-san.” She whispers, reaches out to lay a hand on his elbow. “We can save the children.”

For the first time since he learned of the coup, since Shisui’s death, since finding out what his Village needed of him, since being contacted by Madara, Itachi lets himself _hope_.

(he doesn't realise until later that there had been  _two_ crosses in his mindscape)

* * *

Sakura falls onto her bunk in ROOT, so wrung out she’s almost tempted to ignore Shin’s questioning stare. She closes her eyes for a moment, ignores the quiet shuffling she can hear, and only forces herself to awareness when she feels another body settle beside her.

Sai offers her a squished-looking box of pocky, and when she takes it with a tired smile, turns around and presses his back to hers, a show of comfort and companionship she didn’t even realise she needed until it was so freely offered.

Shin subsides after a few more seconds, once it becomes clear she’s not going to answer his unspoken question, and Sakura lets herself take the time she needs to process _actively changing history._

She’d spent almost six hours with Itachi in the Tsukuyomi, going over the plans and details and logistics and fielding his suspicious, probing questions as to _why_ she was so determined to help every time she tried to move on to the next stage of the plan. She’s exhausted, mentally and physically, and she lets the warmth of Sai’s back against hers lull her into a light sleep.

When she wakes, she has no idea how much time has passed, but she feels human enough to mutter a quiet “Tadaima.”

Sai responds almost immediately, and Sakura’s heart warms when she hears “Okaeri, aneue.”

She reaches over and lightly pets his hair to show her gratitude, then turns to Shin who is looking at her with that same piercing gaze.

“Itachi is on board.” She says simply, and watches the reaction her words provoke.

Shin practically snaps to attention, his expression turning thoughtful, and Sakura knows he has questions, but she also knows that she’s neither in the mood nor in the right state of mind to play twenty questions tonight, so she adds;

“He trapped me in a genjutsu he could access as well and we spent six illusionary hours going over details. He knows everything. And I didn’t have to even suggest Izumi – when I said it might be helpful to have someone older, in case not all children can get adopted, he offered her name all by himself.”

“And he’ll handle it?” Shin asks skeptically, and Sakura smiles wryly.

“That’s what he said. And if not, the Sharingan has coercive abilities.” She sees Shin wince at the reminder, clearly not too happy with the idea and has to stifle a sigh. “It was heavily implied he has some kind of history with the girl. I think he’d rather see her genjutsu’ed into caring for a bunch of little Uchiha than dead by his hand.”

She feels the twitch Sai gives at her back, and she can’t miss the way Shin’s expression twists momentarily. Sakura mentally reviews her words, more than a little baffled, but apart from being a little more callous than she usually tries to be, she can’t find anything wrong with what she said.

If Shin feels differently, he doesn’t voice it, just offers her a nod and a tight smile.

They sit there for a few seconds, all three silent, the weight of what they’re planning hanging over their heads like leaden storm clouds, ready to burst. Then Sakura stands, stretches, and with the crack of her spine, the silence breaks, and they shake the tension off and go back to what they had been doing as she prepares to catch up on the sleep she missed for the journey back.

She is eight and she is twenty six, she is dead and she is alive, she is ruled by her emotions and emotionless at once, but that is not what matters right now.

What matters right now is the fact that she is a step closer to bringing Danzo down, Shisui is alive, her brothers are safe, and Sasuke may end up with more than just the three living, psychopathic relatives he had in her timeline when all is said and done.

What matters is that, for the moment, she is content.


	8. Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a (post)christmas miracle! an update! 
> 
> as always, thank you sm to everyone supporting this story of mine <3 i love y'all so much! 
> 
> hope this new year finds you all happy and healthy!

Sakura falls to her knees with a hiss, blood spilling past her lips and dripping onto the floor, her arm automatically moving to cradle her likely broken ribs, and it is only through sheer force of will that she does not summon medical chakra to heal herself.

(Danzo can’t know. Not yet.)

She looks up, and Nezumi is staring down at her imperiously, bo held at his side almost lazily, looking like he hadn’t just broken her ribs with one deadly swing of his weapon.

“You are Lord Danzo’s guard.” He tells her, and despite the complete lack of inflection, he still manages to sound disapproving. “Yet you are too slow.”

“You said no chakra.” Sakura spits at him, wiping the blood from her chin and forcing herself to her feet. Her lungs _scream_ and breathing _burns,_ but the fact remains that Danzo is watching and she needs to be _better._

Nezumi looks unfazed. “You are a fool if you think an opponent would grant you the privilege of a fair fight.” He replies and shifts into an offensive stance. “Again.”

The truth of the matter was that she had miscalculated. Not severely, but enough for it to show. By focusing on her Mokuton, her nature transformations, her shunshin and medical ninjutsu, she had neglected the very first thing the war had made a necessity in her old life: chakra-less combat.

Her current body is too young, too small, too weak to stand a chance in taijutsu matches with adults, and too underdeveloped to risk trying to build musculature.

Her aim with throwing weapons is good, but in the situation she finds herself now, chakra-less and with only her fists and a kunai to defend herself, she is at a disadvantage.

So she rushes Nezumi again, and plays Tsunade’s favourite game of keep-away, doing her best to not let him land any debilitating hits, waiting until he tires or grows frustrated.

But Nezumi is Danzo’s to the core, and he does neither, at least outwardly, but Sakura can feel the amount of chakra in his swings increase the more time passes without him landing the endgame hit.

Then, when the pain in her ribs is dulling every other sense and the inability to draw a deep breath is making black spots dance at the edges of her vision, Sakura stays in one place long enough for Nezumi to raise the bo over his head and bring it down in a punishing strike, and she feels the chakra the weapon is imbued with split the skin on her cheek as she hops back at the last second and watches it bury itself a few inches in the stone floor. Then she’s palming her kunai and darting into Nezumi’s space as he tries to wrench the bo free. She steps close enough to lean up and draw her kunai along his throat lightning-quick, lightly enough to break the skin but not kill or maim.

Then Nezumi recovers and drives his knee into her solar plexus, and she crumples.

“Enough.” Danzo calls and rises to his feet, and Sakura pushes herself to do the same even as she notes that her head is spinning and her eyes refuse to focus. “A satisfactory display to start with.” He assesses, and his sharp eye zeroes in on her. “Both of you will receive ten lashes for hits you took.” Danzo orders coldly, and Sakura grits her teeth, and she feels Nezumi stiffen beside her in shock.

Either Danzo notices it, or he knows his guard, because a cruel expression crosses his face and his eye focuses meaningfully on Nezumi’s throat. “I have no time for useless tools.”

Nezumi twitches as if struck, then bows stiffly and disappears, and Sakura manages to maintain her composure long enough to walk out of the throne room and out of Danzo’s sight, then she lets herself drop to her knees and whimper.

Her hands light green and she carefully sets her ribs and repairs the micro-tears in her lungs, then she flushes a wave of chakra through her whole body and pushes herself to her feet.

Her probationary period is over. She is on Danzo’s guard, and she has his trust.

Finally, _finally_ they can start moving against him.

Despite the fact that her body feels like one giant ache, a smile makes its way onto her face, and she doesn’t try to beat it back.

* * *

Two weeks later, all their preparations are in place.

Sakura meets with Itachi to set the exact day for the Massacre, and she feels only a hint of pity for the teen in front of her. It should alarm her, but they are both hollow by now. ROOT conditioning and the last few weeks has taken a toll on them, has made them something not-quite-human. She knows Itachi doesn’t trust her, not fully, but the eight infants and a teenager they’re going to save is reason enough for him to keep his doubts quiet, and Sakura appreciates that.

“Ōkami has found families for six of the children.” She murmurs, meeting Itachi’s narrow eyes with an expression that once would’ve been a smile, but now is just flat. “Izumi will have to take care of the other two.”

“And logistics?” Itachi asks, sharp with fatigue and distrust, and Sakura’s gaze grows colder, the sympathy in her expression melting into a scowl.

“Inu and Ōkami will take care of that. And once they have been homed, not even Ōkami will be able to find them.” She tells the teen, narrowing her eyes. “I have told you this before, Itachi-san. Multiple times.”

Itachi doesn’t seem to appreciate her subtle rebuke, but she is _tired._

It’s been two months since Shisui’s ‘death’, a month and a half since she first made contact with Itachi about the Massacre, and a month of ceaseless planning and scheming and organising while trying to avoid being discovered by Danzo and his organisation of trained assassins.

Sakura’s patience and nerves are frayed, and she does not have the _time_ for Itachi’s doubts.

“This is what we are offering: a safe passage for the youngest children, and a chance for a new start. Take it or leave it, Itachi-san, but do _not_ question us in the final stages.” She says coldly, and Itachi sags, if only slightly.

“I’ll take it.” He sighs, then closes his eyes. Sakura would be shocked at such a blatant show of vulnerability, but she knows that Itachi likely doesn’t consider her a threat anymore.

_Interesting._

“Two days from now.” He says at last, and his voice is that of a man on his way to the gallows. “At sundown. I will have the children for you at the Shrine.”

Slowly, Sakura nods and gets to her feet. Hesitating, she lays a gentle hand on Itachi’s bowed head, and doesn’t tense when his own snaps out to catch her wrist in a bruising grip.

“Be strong.” She murmurs, pulls her hand from Itachi’s hold and makes her way to the same entryway into ROOT HQ she used last time.

They will change history.

* * *

What Sakura does not expect is to be called into Danzo’s throne room forty-eight hours later, nor does she expect to see five other masks she recognises from his guard rotation.

“One of our operatives is on a mission in the Uchiha Compound tonight.” The man begins, his voice gravelly. “Your mission is to turn away or dispatch any ANBU, shinobi, or civilian of the Leaf you see by the compound. We cannot afford for him to be disturbed.”

 _Shit, shit, shit-!_ Sakura chants, even as she joins in with the chorus of ‘hai!’ and rises with the others. She panics all the way to the Uchiha Compound, following the leader onto the pagoda roofs by the entry into the Compound, and only calms down when the ROOT group divides, and three agents move to the roof on the other side of the gate.

She feels the cold shiver of battle-calm steel over her nerves and emotions, and she knows what she needs to do.

She has to meet Shin at the Shrine and help him take the children down the waterfall and onto the boats Sai will have waiting for them. Then, she has to make sure Itachi doesn’t get the chance to torture Sasuke and poison his brain with thoughts of revenge, or all of this will have been for naught.

And she cannot be seen.

There is only one solution.

_The ROOT agents have to go._

Sakura palms a kunai in her pouch and glances at the setting sun.

As the last rays of golden light disappear over the horizon and the first stifled scream rings through the air, Sakura _moves._

* * *

Itachi feels his clone disperse and focuses on the memories only enough to ensure the eight infants had been transferred safely, and the genjutsu he placed on Izumi still holds.

His parents’ faces, the grim, resigned, yet nonetheless proud smiles they wore as they knelt before him – he knows they will haunt him for eternity.

But now, he is faced with another problem.

_Take care of Sasuke._

How can he, when the boy is screaming, when he sees clearly the tears and suffering he brought his own brother? His own blood? The very one he was trying to save?

“W-why did you do it?” his brother demands through his tears, glaring at Itachi, but still wanting to know his reasoning, still clinging to his ideal of his ‘perfect aniki’.

But Itachi knows, deep in his heart, that his otouto’s beloved aniki is long dead.

The Itachi he sees before him is but a shell.

He’s played a spy for his Clan, a spy for his Village, a spy for Danzo, a spy for Shisui; he’s kept secrets from his Hokage, from his family, from himself – even he does isn’t truly sure where his allegiance lies, but he knows it is neither with Danzo, nor with Madara.

He has the blood of his Clan on his hands. He will never again be able to call Konoha home.

And what does he have to show for it?

His brother’s life, and eight children he’ll never be able to find, and a girl who he once called a friend who will live her whole life under a genjutsu.

He looks at his brother, and he feels hope.

Sasuke can be his salvation.

Itachi lets the emptiness of his soul leak into his voice as he speaks; “To test my capacity.”

Sasuke jerks, looks up at him in shock, eyes wide and glistening with tears, and Itachi sees an _opportunity._

_If he hates me, if he kills me… I’ll be free, and our family will be avenged._

He feels his eyes bleed into the Mangekyo, feels a trickle down his cheeks that is not tears, and his chakra spikes, but before he can meet his brother’s eyes, Sasuke crumples, and is caught by a form not much taller than him.

Itachi sees red.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hisses, not bothering to pretend to be unbothered by the interruption – they are amongst corpses, and Itachi can no longer sense Madara, though he knows the man is not far.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

Sasuke could’ve been his _salvation_. His _absolution._

And he was _denied._

“Preventing you from making a mistake.” The girl replies coldly, and lowers Sasuke to the ground with more gentleness than he would’ve ever expected from a ROOT.

“You crossed a line.” Itachi snaps, and he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to throw a barrage of shuriken at the child.

He is _furious._

“You need to leave.” Is the response he gets, far too collected, even as he notes a dark stain on her side and a limp to her movements. “I killed the ROOT on patrol, but the ANBU will be here soon.”

Itachi doesn’t even twitch at the easy admission – his very soul is stained with the blood of at least half his Clan, and he’s sure whatever humanity he might’ve once had has died with his parents.

He spits a curse, viler than anything he’s ever allowed to pass his lips before and he feels hatred he’s only ever felt directed at Danzo and his Clan’s Elders, all for this _presumptuous child_ before him.

But she just stands there, his brother’s unconscious form at her feet, unaffected.

“Go.” She orders again, her tone harder, “And take your partner far away from this Village.”

Itachi wonders, in the deep corner of his mind that isn’t seething with rage and slowly crumbling with grief and guilt, _how_ she knows about Madara, but he doesn’t ask.

Words are beyond him.

With one last look at Sasuke, a missed opportunity, and a sharp glare at the ROOT brat, he disappears.

* * *

Sakura waits until she can no longer sense Itachi’s chakra, then she lets the breath she was holding out, and it stutters in her chest, turns into a dry sob.

The air reeks of death and gore and excrement, the stench of blood so pungent Sakura can taste iron at the back of her throat, but they managed to save eight children and a teenager, and Sasuke hopefully won’t be as traumatised as he had been before.

Sakura takes a moment to compose herself, steels her nerves, and takes out a sealing scroll she brought. This will perhaps be even less honourable than killing her comrades had been, but better she do it, than let it fall into the hands of Obito or Danzo.

With a resigned sigh, Sakura sets off – she has entire libraries to loot, and a District to burn.

* * *

Hiruzen looks out the window in his office with a sigh. His heart aches at having had to destroy an entire Clan, alienate one of the Village’s brightest, and condemn young Sasuke to the life of an orphan, but the Village comes first.

His sigh catches in his throat when flames engulf the furthermost part of the Uchiha District, spreading with the speed and all-consuming hunger that only chakra-fuelled fire usually manages.

_This wasn’t part of the plan._

With a wave of his hand, half the ANBU team watching his every move drops to kneel on the floor, waiting on orders.

“There is a fire in the Uchiha District. Go investigate.” He orders and turns away from the window, settling at his desk.

His fingers trace over the compartment in the desk which hides the most damning, damaging reports, but he will have to wait until his clone is in his Compound and the ANBU guard halves before he can come back, sign off on the document and count Itachi’s mission a success.

(With great responsibility come great sacrifices, and since beginning his second term as Hokage, Hiruzen is slowly running out of pawns to sacrifice.)

* * *

“Danzo-sama.” Sakura kneels, head down, and awaits her fate.

“Report.” Comes the cold order, and Sakura doesn’t hesitate to deliver the speech she’d rehearsed while she was looting and burning all that was left of the Uchiha legacy.

“The Uchiha agent realised he was being watched. He attacked the surveillance team after he fulfilled his mission. There were five casualties.”

“But you survived?” Danzo demands, and it wasn’t scepticism in his tone, not quite, but Sakura was still wary.

“He sustained injuries fighting the team.” She replies, and her hesitation isn’t fully staged before she adds, “And I beat him once before.”

Danzo hums. “But the mission was a success?”

“Hai, Danzo-sama.”

He eyes her for a moment longer, and Sakura isn’t sure what she should be seeing in his gaze, but all she can spot is a grim, vicious satisfaction.

“Dismissed.”

Sakura rises, bows, and shunshins out of the throne room before she can do something stupid like _woop in joy._

_They made it._

* * *

Two days later, Shin and Sai return to ROOT HQ, both looking worn to the bone but with the hard slant of success to their shoulders.

“Any problems?” Sakura asks, almost not wanting to know, but Shin just shakes his head.

“None. If my contacts uphold their end of the deal, those kids will grow up safe, away from shinobi and anyone who may recognise them.” Shin reports and collapses onto his bunk, peeling away his armour and toeing off his boots. “And on your end?”

“Parted on less than favourable terms with Itachi, but half the Compound is ash and dust, and I have all their jutsu scrolls and history books in my possession.”

 Sai settles beside her, and his eyes as he looks at her seem to see right through her walls and facades.

“Yet you don’t seem satisfied. Why?” he asks, and Sakura sighs, reaching out an looping an arm around Sai’s neck and pulling him into a half-hug.

“Don’t you understand? This is where the truly difficult part begins. We have all the _knowledge_ we need to bring Danzo down. What we need now is the physical evidence.” She explains, and tries very hard not to let the despair weighing her down seep into her voice.

She fails.

With an exhausted sigh, Shin hauls himself into a sitting position and levels her with a flat, serious look.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks simply, and Sakura almost pulls a muscle with how vehemently she shakes her head. “Then the rest is irrelevant. We knew, all those years ago, that we were pitting ourselves against a man who has survived more than most shinobi could dream of. That hasn’t changed. We, however, have. Sakura, you’re on his guard rotation. Sai could be too, if we decide to show Danzo even half of what he’s capable of now. With you two on the inside, gathering the evidence will be easy. But there is one more place we need to get into, and that will require the ultimate commitment.”

Sakura’s eyes widened.

“Surely you don’t mean-?!”

But Shin just nods, a sad, resigned smile playing on his lips.

“One of us still needs to get into ANBU, and onto the Hokage’s guard rotation. And for that, we’ll have to be sealed.”


End file.
